


Amphi & the Amphibians: Into the Thicket

by CommanderBayban



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Continues
Genre: Animal Transformation, Animorphism, Anthropomorphic, Frogs, Gen, Shapeshifting, Talking Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27617624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderBayban/pseuds/CommanderBayban
Summary: Foreign Minister Amphidamas is taking a well deserved break from work after finally establishing Chalsis' place as a member of the Federation. A cold drink, a good book, and...a talking frog who needs his help?A minister's work is never done and nature isn't always what it seems!(Revolving around the character who is introduced in the episode "The White Iris")





	1. Chapter 1

What a beautiful afternoon it was. Wispy cirrus clouds without so much as a hint of grey reclined across the firmament as birds fluttered by tweet-tweeting without a care in the world. An intermittent breeze rustled the tops of trees and helped to dry the brows of those who toiled beneath the sun who bore her all without inhibition. Yes, what a beautiful afternoon it was.

Stretched out on a white wicker chair beneath the shade of a five-hundred year old willow tree rested Amphidamas, the tall and colourful foreign minister of Chalsis. After finally securing a spot for his planet in the annals of the United Federation of Planets, he made sure to spend his first day off from the stress and struggle of it all by relaxingat his humble abode in the countryside. _Alone_. Well, save for the menagerie of animals he had roaming around the place. But at least they didn’t speak in convoluted jargon and you didn't have to worry about them being duplicitous scoundrels who smiled in your face while wedging a knife in your back...Like those horrid people of Eretria ( _shudder)._

Before the two planets were inhabited by those who walked upright and talked forthright, it was obvious that Chalsis and Eretria were sister planets. Two worlds of luscious, green grass; sprawling trees; calm, flowing rivers; and happy animals...the definition of idyllic.

Generations and generations ago, the Chalsidians lived on the tiny desert planet of Varahin, where their proper demonym was the _Varahins_. Despite the land appearing mostly arid and infertile on satellite pictures, the Varahins adapted and took great pride in their sprawling gardens and the high-yield bounties they were able to harvest. From the beginning they strove to never lay a hand on any animal unless it was to show affection or to guide them through the crops. And for the duration of the Varahin existence, this belief persisted without any objection.

But after a catastrophic storm that decimated the living population and altered the climate for the worst, the Varahins were forced to evacuate and rebuild their lives elsewhere as their homeworld burnt and crumbled before their eyes.

When they arrived on (what was to be known as) Chalsis, they set up their civilisation with the same ideals as before: to keep nature as pure as it possibly could be. After all, now that they had the opportunity to lie on plush grass and wade in cool waters—it seemed silly to squander it all.

Thousands of years later as the surrounding planets became metropolises and hotbeds of technological innovation, there came an uprising amongst the Chalsis people. A sect of the population rued their so-called ‘restrictive’ lives and demanded a change. They grew tired of their vegetarian diets, blasphemed the traditional pagan spiritualism, and turned their attention towards the materialistic lifestyle present on Earth and Earth-like worlds.

The new ideology was strong enough to incite civil war; and by the final battle, the fields were stained with red and enough tears were shed to fill the ocean’s basin twice over.

And it only resulted in a bittersweet stalemate.

The _Eretrians—_ as the new sect was called—took their members and withdrew themselves to the twin planet where, over the years, they managed to dig, drill, burn, and kill anything they could in the name of 'civilisation' and 'progress'. Where deer once roamed, skyscrapers controlled. Where fish once swam, suburbs thrived.

But despite having a new world to call their own and run how they wished, they still harboured hatred in their hearts for the Chalsidians. Taunting, teasing, and threatening war for no good reason at all. Perhaps they desired to conquer the land like their fellow Terrans did many times in their own history. Perhaps it was all just schoolyard fun for them; picking on the ‘little guys’ because they knew they would never receive retribution.

But where the Eretrians fought with words and fists, the Chalsidians fought with strategy.

Defensive strategy, anyhow. And that’s where Minister Amphidamas came in.

As foolish as it may sound, he _did_ try to reason with the Eretrians first. And what sprung forth from his efforts? Every peace conference scheduled was met with perpetual tarriance, peace treaties were revised countless times until the words were meaningless, and any one-on-one conversation was fraught with doublespeak.

Until one day when word spread that Eretria was in the planning stages of building a large scale ballistic missile. For the first time, ‘peace’ was no longer a word in the Chalsidians’ vocabulary. A formal, expedited request to join the Federation was sent with the goal of becoming protected within the planetary defence grid. The grid would surround the planet with a defence perimeter consisting of deflector shields; and repulsor beams would be implemented to prevent any unwanted ships or attacks from crossing the threshold.

Just as quickly as words can come in, words can just as quickly go out, and the Eretrian government wasn’t having any of it. Small-scale terrorist attacks were plentiful in those following months, escalating to the point of sneaking into the declaration ceremony with the hopes of assassinating the Chalsidian diplomats and the attending crew of the U.S.S Enterprise, who was initiating the alliance. No one was seriously hurt, but Captain Kirk was wounded in the incident making him unable to continue the declaration at that moment in time.

It was only minutes later when Amphidamas got the message that Eretria had not just instilled ground troops, but had successfully launched their missile.

The Chalsidian people were forced to be at the mercy of Kirk, to wait with bated breath as the threat of eminent destruction loomed over them. Calling for the assistance of another Federation member was futile given the time constraints! No, there was no other option—the fate of Chalsis rested in the hands of one man and one man alone.

The Minister pleaded with the Enterprise like he had never done before. All the while his mind flashed spurious images of death and destruction before his eyes and deafened him with the potential screams of his people. The demise of all he had known and loved. He wasn't a sailor, but even if it did happen—if the missile struck—he reminded himself of a mantra that he always repeated in times of strife: _'I will go down with this planet'_. But to sit on scorched land, looking up at the skies that were once brilliant blue become tainted with red? To choke on mephitic air that was once crisp and fresh? To hear nary a bird call nor the chittering of squirrels in the peak of spring? The thought alone made him sick.

But it never came to fruition.

The missile, that is.

With six minutes to spare, Kirk regained his mental and physical aptitude and implemented the defence shield—terminating any further actions from the sister planet.

With the Chalsidians having a new lease on peace and prosperity, Minister Amphidamas became a global hero in his own right, although—because of his humble sensibilities—he never considered himself anything but a simple civil servant. After all, it was the _people_ who were the driving force behind petitioning to the Federation in the first place.

So there he sat in his colourful layers of handmade silk damask and cotton robes (as was the traditional casual garb of the land), reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s _Treasure Planet_ in his native tongue, and sipping on the finest Terran wine. He had only uncorked the bottle after sitting himself down and yet three-quarters of the bottle had already been indulged in. He—

 _No_ , despite the connotations of that line, dearest Amphi (as he liked to be called) was _far_ from an alcoholic. In fact, before this bottle swam ashore, there never existed a single drop of alcohol on Chalsis (at least, not as far as anyone knew). Teetotallers? More by circumstance than by choice. It hadn’t been invented...yet.

The closest thing they had to an intoxicant was a delectable little candy-apple coloured drink from the _Mikosmimata acerporii_ (common name: the sugarplum draught)—an evergreen subshrub whose maximum height ranges from six to eight feet tall. When their white flowers become fertilised, they begin to bear a myriad of red berries that can be picked, squeezed, sweetened, and consumed. The subject who then consumes this beverage becomes ravenous for chocolate and a good nap. The bottled drink was a fan-favourite amongst parents whose children preferred to stay up until the wee hours of the morning doing who knows what.

But back on the subject of _alcohol_ , the Federation inducting ceremony was attended by a representative from each of the founding and council planets along with neutral parties. When the never-ending speeches turned into never-ending congratulations, Amphi was graciously presented with a bottle of the finest champagne by the diplomats of Earth to take back to his home planet.

“A token of our newly forged alliance, from the Montagne de Reims in France,” they said, after joking about how peculiar it was that a government employee (of all people!) was drinking _water_ at a celebratory ceremony, “Just don’t drink it all at once!”

The very words had slipped his mind now. The bubbly concoction tingled on his palate like jumping beans screaming “More! More!” and the sweetness that lingered after the initial bitterness always came as a delightful surprise. The aroma was that of a bouquet of flowers laced with ripe fruit ready to be picked, and this also happened to be the flavour of the aftertaste. But the way the drink made him _feel?_ Oh! He had forgotten what true, unadulterated relaxation felt like.

Amphi downed the remaining sip he had left and poured himself another glass. “Chapter _twenty_?” he thought, scratching his head, “However did I get this far? I scarcely remember what happened in chapter _five!_ ”

With a furrowed brow, he flipped back to the beginning of the book but the words seemed to twist and morph into one another like one of Rorschach’s inkblots. Words. Letters. Entire sentences engaging in a never-ending mitosis. He blinked, and for a second everything seemed normal. For a second.

“Enough of that, then,” he drawled, shutting the book and tossing it onto the table. He shifted about in his seat, settling on a position where his legs were outstretched and his hands were folded upon his belly. A long, hearty yawn escaped his lips as his shoulders fell and his muscles relaxed. If there was any way to make a man levitate, he had unlocked half of the secret to doing so. His body felt light as air, and it was only a matter of time before he was bound to float up to the sky like a rogue champagne bubble.

In the distance, a dozen eagles in mating colours flew by in formation. As the last tail disappeared from view, Amphi’s eyes fluttered closed, _“Soon I will become one with the birds and the leaves; see what they see as they dance in the breeze; above us they watch as we walk and we play; and wonder why we travel in such inefficient ways…”_

He was stirred awake by a loud burp that rumbled his throat, but he paid it no mind and resumed his slumber. Only a moment later when he began to feel odd—almost numb—sensations in his limbs did his eyes flicker open and he saw that he was trapped in a bubble like a pet goldfish in a plastic bag!

“Good heavens!” he exclaimed, “I’ve never experienced a dream so realistic! Look at how vivid the colours are with none of the haze found in traditional dreams!...I had no idea I was this tired!” He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to awaken and drag himself to a more comfortable sleeping arrangement, but the only result was an eyelash falling into his cornea.

After removing the dastardly hair, Amphi fell to his knees and scampered about the effervescent blob. “It can’t be?” he said, “This can’t be real life?” He pushed his hands down through the squishy rind, but no matter how many times he tried or the amount of force he used, it would bounce back like children’s putty.

In the process, his eyes honed in on the sights sweeping below him. There was.. _his house_? Not behind him as it once was, but _below_ him! A tiny light-green building with a chimney and plants creeping their way up the walls; the garden with a myriad of blooming flowers and sprouting produce; and the acres and acres of forest that surrounded it all on three sides. And there’s the road that leads to the town center and...goodness gracious, he could see the entire town from up here! Like playthings they all looked! Even the trees looked like something that would be whittled and painted by a master toymaker! The birds soared below him like motes of dust in the wind!

“I can’t believe this..To fly above the world without the confines of a metal contraption…,” Amphi’s eyes glistened in childlike wonder and he leaned his palms against the smooth walls to take in all that he could possibly see: from the stores, to the schools, to the library (which reminded him that one of the books he’d requested was now available for pick-up), to the parks...

But how high did this bubble go? As high as the highest clouds? As high as the stars? He hadn’t calculated the logistics of him going into space, but surely the bubble was oxygenated as he had gone this far without any sign of distress? He didn’t have to wait long for an answer when the balloon passed right through the clouds without so much as a single fanfare. The cool, misty air penetrated the inside, washing over him like when one walks through a shroud of fog.

“By Jove, I’m poorly dressed for this occasion!” he said, quickly rubbing his arms to keep himself from shivering more than he already was.

The turquoise blue skies above him soon turned into a midnight black. Twinkling stars encompassed him and he could just make out the colours of Eretria in the distance. An unknown starship zoomed by, bringing butterflies who made their home inside Amphi’s belly, their wings flapping incessantly. Would this trip never end?

“Okay, I think this is quite enough!” he grumbled, “I want off!”

But how was he to do so? He was now past the point where gravity could help him and who knows what could happen if he _popped_ the bubble? Not like he had anything to pop it _with_. Cold breath condensed on the inside of the vesicle and, not believing anything would come of it, he scribbled out a “!PLEH” on one side and a “SOS” on the other.

When finished, Amphi slid down one of the unwritten sides and brought his knees close to his chest, “I’m trapped in a bubble,” he grimaced, “ _Me._ In a _bubble_. In _space_. Is there no recourse?”

_Flip, flip, flip_

His eyes darted to the left. And to the right.

_Flip, flip, flip_

Then above. And below.

But there was nothing around that could make such a... _wet_ and _sticky_ noise.

_Riiiibbit_

_“A frog? In here?”_ he thought, “Frog, show yourself, won’t you? I’d rather _NOT_ play hide and seek at the moment, if you don’t mind.”

_Riiiibbit!_

Amphi gave an exasperated sigh and stretched out his legs. Wherever that frog was, it certainly wouldn’t understand Chalsidian; best not to even concern himself with it. Best not to even concern himself with the main problem at hand, either. He dared not look down for fear of what he might see (or _not_ see), so he leaned his head back against the squishy walls and shut his eyes. He had seen enough.

 _“It’s a chimera,_ ” he reassured to himself, “ _Another fantastic situation from the bowels of my mind. None of it is real and in a few minutes I will awaken in my own backyard as if none of it ever happened.”_

Just then, something thin and wet slapped him against the cheek, forcing him awake. “UGH!” he groaned, wiping his face with the back of his hand, “What in the name of—”

When he opened his eyes, he didn’t see the familiar surroundings he desired.

Instead, he was greeted by a plump, green frog with an orange and black-striped underbelly and glassy eyes. The creature glanced up at him and shot a rather human-like smile, “Riiibbit!”


	2. Chapter 2

Amphidamas furrowed his brow. How this frog had the audacity to lick his face like some kind of shrunken, dyed puppy dog with googly-eyes was beyond him. Nevermind how it got into the bubble in the first place!

“What do you want?” the Minister scowled, looking down at the creature on his thigh. The frog seemed content to happily gaze up at the silver-haired man with the odd blue streak in his goatee in silence, because not a word nor a ribbit crossed his lips. He simply stared. Amphi sighed and pressed his lips together into a hard line. Getting irate over a frog’s (hopefully) innocent gesture was futile. Might as well befriend the little thing instead of spending the rest of his days floating up, up, and away all on his lonesome. “I’m sorry,” he said, “As we’re both stuck up here, cordiality will go a long way. It’s unfortunate you haven’t any flies to eat (his own stomach rumbled)...and I supper…”

The frog tilted its head and narrowed its large grey and black-slitted eyes.

Amphi tugged at his collar, “Your scrutinising me in silence is making me feel rather awkward, you know. My name may be Amphidamas, but I can’t read your mind, Mister Frog.”

The frog croaked, “Amphidamas? _The_ Amphidamas?”

A grimace slapped across the Minister’s face, “Oh, the lack of atmosphere must be affecting me,” he said, massaging his temples, “I almost thought you said my name!”

“Indeed I did,” the frog responded in a distinct ‘Victorian-esque’ accent, “And I also asked you a question.”

Amphidamas’ face went blank, “ _Noo,_ I can’t believe this. You can’t be real, but a figment of my overactive imagination! Never in my two-hundred years of existence have I ever heard an animal—especially not one of your species—speak in such perfect Chalsidian.”

“Pick me up then, my dear fellow, and see for yourself.”

Well, the creature certainly felt real with its moist and slimy exterior. All his limbs looked real enough, and he did how to use them, too. But perhaps more than he should, because this fellow could walk bipedally and had full range of motion like any humanoid. He jumped on two legs, pretended to fence, and imitated the balance of a tree.

“Good heavens! Save for appearances, you’re...no different from me or anyone else.”

“We animals are just as sophisticated as you are. You’d be surprised what we do when prying eyes are not around.”

“I never doubted the awesome abilities of our fauna. Thank you for trusting me enough to demonstrate,” Amphi placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head, “I am truly honoured. Please, what do you call yourself?”

“Chara. _Sir_ Chara, of the Tribe of Ranunculus, East of Winding River,” he declared, “And you are Foreign Minister Amphidamas of the Chalsidians, Ancestor of the Varahins?”

“Precisely...But may I also ask how you know this?”

“In due time, Minister. But first we must get you out of this bubble,”

A small, sincere smile appeared over Amphi’s face. A right, sensible frog that one was, but he informed the creature of his woes and how he didn’t wish to go falling a million miles headfirst into Chalsis or end up suffocating amongst the stars with neither a tether nor helmet. Sir Chara held up a webbed, four-digited hand and shook his head, “Nay, nay; this bubble doesn’t exist and you are not floating in space as you believe to be. As you so eloquently stated: you have an overactive imagination and are dreaming it all,”

Amphi held a fist to his lips and frowned, “Only a moment ago you said you were real.”

“ _I_ am real, _you_ are real, but this setting is decidedly not real. Just as you proved I am, in fact, a living, breathing amphibian, you can prove that this vessel is a figment of your mind. It is true that it _was_ formed by your overindulgence of champagne, but not in the way you think.” Sir Chara hopped away to sit in the rounded corner, “Come on, where’s your scientific method?”

“Scientific—? Right, of course,” A practical frog as well! Admittedly, he wasn’t much of a scientist nor a mathematician, but he did pride himself on having a keen ability to problem solve. 

With a small grunt, the Minister took to his feet and paced the confines of the space, speaking solemnly with his hands clasped behind his back, “Well, I have tested the walls many times and they don’t seem to budge regardless of the pressure exerted on them. And they—”

“Did you jump?”

Amphi paused his walking, “Pardon me?”

“Did you jump? To test the pressure. Or did you only use your hands?”

“Well I-uh I...I did not jump, no…”

By the frog’s silence, Amphi could tell that was a cue for him to engage in the horrifying act of jumping. Did Chara forget that the man he was speaking to wasn’t exactly light on his feet compared to him?

The Minister veered his eyes to the black void below him. No, it had to be fine, right? Chara wouldn’t lie—especially not when his life hung in the balance as well (this turned out to not be a comforting thought, since the frog appeared to teleport into the bubble and he could just as well teleport out)! Still, animals did have their own ways of sensing danger and if Chara didn’t think anything terrible would happen…

Amphidamas lifted his robes up to the ankle, revealing his green leather loafers embroidered with floral patterning. A big, deep breath and!

“ _Oof!_ Oww...” he mewled, sitting in a heap on the floor, “Why didn’t you say it would shoot me back up like a bouncy castle?! I wouldn’t have jumped as high!”

The frog, who was chuckling behind his hand, shrugged, “All part of the scientific method, my dear chap.”

“Thank you very much!” he huffed rubbing his head, “...Conclusion: the walls of the bubble are unmoved by traditional methods of pressure. I know they are able to condensate, but that has little importance for the task at hand...It’s unfortunate I haven’t any tools on me—all bubbles must be able to pop.”

“A dashed clever comment. Luckily you have me, _ribbbit_ ,” Sir Chara presented a shiny corkscrew with a wooden handle to his fellow prisoner. Where the object came from is anyone’s guess.

Amphi’s eyes narrowed as he twirled the device in his hand, “This is mine isn’t it?”

“Yes,”

“I appreciate your bluntness. Now, let’s see…” He ran the corkscrew along the walls until he stopped at a certain position and grinned satisfactorily, “Here. This is a good spot, don’t you think?” There was a silence as still as death; when he looked over his shoulder the frog was gone. Vanished. Just as he had feared. “Oh, great, now where have you gone?!”

A few seconds passed and there was no sign of the frog. A few more seconds passed and there was still no sign of the frog. But did it matter? Amphidamas remembered what he had told himself only a minute earlier and he wanted _out_ of here, no matter what; regardless of whether or not he had a foreman hanging over him.

_“Oh, G-ds, I hope this works.”_ He clenched the corkscrew’s handle and turned back to the chosen spot on the wall. A small prayer was mumbled under his breath and with a one

Two

Three

He whipped his arm back and catapulted it forward, jabbing the bubble right through.

There was no pop. No sound at all.

Everything just went black.

No stars. No starships. Just

Black.

Falling.

Falling endlessly with nothing to grip to.

He felt the g-forces pushing on his body; the breeze ripping across his face and whipping his hair and clothes around like tree branches in the middle of a storm. He knew he was screaming a deafening scream by the way his vocal cords vibrated. But he couldn’t hear any of it. Not a single thing.

How many miles.

How many minutes.

How many…

_Ribbit._

Amphidamas’ eyes shot open. He jolted up from his seat, panting, and with sweat laced along his brow. “I’m alive?! I’m alive!?” he shouted, patting his body with more vigor than the security guards who oversaw the initial alliance declaration, “I still have my limbs?!...Yes, all accounted for. My head?!...Hair...Ears...Yes...yes…,” his hands fell to grip the edge of the table, “Oh, thank the G-ds”. His breathing was ragged and shallow; and his heart was palpitating like never before. He tried to gulp but his saliva was thick, although at the same time his mouth was dry.

“No, I’m not touching that again…,” he mumbled, looking over at the half-full glass of champagne that hadn’t moved since his peregrination, “Or maybe...just a sip.” The drink was gulped down in an instant and he ran a weary hand along his paled face as he slumped back into his seat.

_“I...I can’t tell if any of that was a dream. There obviously isn’t any evidence leftover except for my physical state, but...it_ felt _real. It all_ felt _real!!”_

“Welcome to Chalsis,” a familiar voice said.

“Hm?” Amphi peeked through his fingers and there was the same green and orange frog from before, “Chara, was it? Oh, I’ve just had the strangest dream…or the strangest reality. I can’t tell which.”

The frog’s mouth gaped open, “Chara? What the deuce; how do you know my name?”

“What…?”

“I said, how do you know my name? I’ve never spoken to you a day in my life. And along with that, you’re speaking to me—a frog—with absolutely no sense of bewilderment in your voice at all.”

Amphidamas situated himself more erect in his chair and cleared his throat, _“I don’t know what to make of this,”_ he thought, _“He claims to have never met me and yet_ I _have met_ him _. Maybe it wasn’t him, but someone with the same name?_ (he examined the frog from afar) _No, those are definitely the same tiger markings on his underbelly_ …” He continued to ruminate, his feet tap-tapping against the grass.

Chara stood upright and rubbed his bald head, “We might as well start from scratch...Hello?... _Hello?”_ He leaped onto Amphi’s lap and gave his cheek a smack with his tongue.

“AGH! There you go again!” Amphi hissed.

“Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”

Sir Chara started off, once again, by asking if the man was _the_ Foreign Minister—not to be confused with a man of the cloth who goes traipsing into other people’s countries with the intent of converting natives. And Amphi, in return, relayed the little information he knew about Sir Chara but ended with a question of his own, “Why have you come to see me?”

The frog captured a fly and shoved it into his mouth, “We require your assistance in the Tribe, Minister,”

“Why _me?_ I did dabble in fervent environmentalism years ago, but it’s far from my specialty now.”

“Yes, we are aware of your activism. But this is not an environmental matter, it is a matter of our people.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not a veterinarian, either.”

“A veterinarian is not needed, Minister.”

“Go on, then. And, please, call me Amphi.”

Realising that speaking in fragments would only delay the necessary help, the frog hopped down from Amphi’s lap and onto the ground, “Come with me, Amphi,” he insisted, “It’s better if you hear the problem straight from the source. There’s a young lass who has requested your help, specifically.”

No more the wiser than he once was, but interested in this rather cryptid situation, Amphi let Chara lead the way. Out of the bright and airy backyard they went and down the beaten path they did go—the path that led into the forest. The forest’s canopy consisted of trees hundreds and hundreds of years old; and the understory full of bushes and shrubs that were just as old but had long since reached their maximum height. Benign mosses and fungi thrived on the wood, painting their designs and patterns onto the trees like colourful, multi-dimensional tattoos. In the distance were two sets of glowing eyes—deer—looking up from their supper to examine what strange, colourful person had stepped into their domain.

Different tweets, twits, and chirps sounded at various times as they went deeper and deeper into the brush, _“A black-bellied nuthatch,”_ he whispered to himself, _“A orange-coiffed chickadee…”_ It was good to know those years of birdwatching didn’t go to waste. Their calls almost drowned out the creaks and crunches of his shoes along the detritus, and Amphi tried his hardest to look out for any insects that wanted to use him as a complementary transport service or blood drive. This wasn’t the time to demonstrate to Chara how loud he could scream.

They soon entered a more swampy area of the forest. The ground became damper and all the logs were in the process of rotting away. The typical low-lying green grass soon became stands of tall sedges and grasses with wheat-like inflorescences while the median height of any flowering plants had minimised. Amphi took great care in lifting his robes high enough so they wouldn’t drag, and to step with great giant steps to lessen the amount of dirt he caked on the bottom of his loafers.

Not too far in the distance the sun shone down onto a clearing where a slow, winding river sparkled. This is where Sir Chara ended the tour.

Amphidamas glanced around. There weren’t any animals he could see, here—certainly no other frogs. He strolled to the water’s edge and watched as his reflection warbled. How peaceful this all was, though. Despite living adjacent to it all, it was rare for him to ever venture this far into the wood. He was more of a beach person nowadays, but the forest seemed to beckon to him...requesting that he visit again another day.

“RIIIBBIT! RIIIBBIT! RIIIIBBIT!” Sir Chara croaked, louder than he ever had before. Right on cue, the swamp became alive with the call being repeated back with the exact same pitch, power, and tempo. Dozens of frogs leaped out from their homes and hidey-holes and into the spotlight, continuing their calls as scores more joined them. The sound was so great that the birds soared from their nests, flapping overhead in their flocks and convocations, and gusts of wind blew through, making the trees join in the chorus. The Minister watched and listened with his eyes widened and his ears perked. Animals never ceased to amaze.

Sir Chara hopped onto a log in the middle of it all (which was so pristine that it appeared to have been moulded on an assembly line) and stood erect, his shoulders back and his head held high, “Amphidamas!” he proclaimed, “Welcome to the Frog Kingdom!”


	3. Chapter 3

And then, like a light switch flicked off, the forest went silent. The awesome cacophony that had just occurred still echoed throughout Amphidamas’ mind. He never doubted the capabilities of the animal world, but this all seemed just as chimerical as the astro-bubble. He wondered if he was still sound asleep in his lawn chair under the old willow. If, to outsiders, he appeared in a state of peaceful rest, having never floated up above the clouds or visited frog kingdoms whose citizens spoke and understood the language of people.

“Please, may we have Rupan-taran take the stage!” Sir Chara boomed.

A bright-blue and black spotted frog emerged from the depths of the crowd and perched themself on the spot where Chara once occupied. They wore a tan long sleeved button-down with a t-shirt underneath and tan baggy trousers full of pockets. Their large, glassy, black eyes swivelled to take in the hundreds of fellow amphibians who stared back at them, eager to listen to what they had to say.

But they said nothing.

“Well?” Amphi said from behind the log, “What is it?”

The crowd intoned with sounds of encouragement and the wind picked up once again, but when Rupan-taran lifted a hand, it all ceased.

“I am not a frog!” she bellowed.

 _“Oh, aren’t you?”_ Amphi thought, a cheeky little grin appearing across his lips, _“I hadn’t noticed, my apologies.”_

“I don’t blame anyone who hasn’t noticed...As many of you know (she gulped) I...I have become overwhelmed with a condition that makes me _appear_ to be a frog...You see, many moons ago I visited our twin planet—”

“Good heavens, why on Chalsis would you do such a thing?” the Minister interrupted, stepping closer towards the log.

The frog continued as though the interruption never occurred, “—To study the conditions of amphibian life; how they are coping with the widespread destruction of their natural habitats and the baseless slaughter of their kind. For background, I’m a herpetologist, focusing on the rainforest and swamp species. My mission was to compare the mental states and behavioural patterns of the animals there with the ones here on Chalsis.”

Amphidamas pursed his lips in surprise, “An admirable feat. And what happened to...make it all go astray?”

“Well, while tree-deep in the Kal’hari Swamps, I met a guy (the crowd began to murmur). No, I didn’t think he was cute or anything, but I admired his intelligence. He, too, was a scientist—an evolutionary biologist—and was providing me with a bunch of information on the flora and fauna of Eretria.

“He then told me about how he housed a swathe of live, possibly endangered, specimens in his lab. I wasn’t going to go at first, but then the skies began to open up and I didn’t want to wait it out under the shelter of a banana tree so I went back with him—”

“Do you remember his name, by chance?”

“I—I’ve forgotten...or perhaps he never divulged it. I can’t remember which. And anyway, since we are technically enemies, there was no reason for him not to give a false name. But I do recall how he looked...long, black hair streaked with silver. Light eyes. Tall but not menacing—” Rupan-taran shook her head, “His appearance doesn’t matter. I...don’t want anything to come between our people again if it doesn’t have to.”

“Rupan-taran, he has stripped you from your erstwhile life and turned you into a _frog_. Who knows the number of people he’s done this to already? Or is planning to convert at this very moment?” Amphi’s eyes began to emblaze.

“Please, Minister,” Rupan-taran pleaded, turning around to face the man who spoke to her, “When this is all said and done, let us put it behind us. After I tell my story, I believe you’ll agree that he didn’t mean me any harm.”

Amphi bowed his head and raised his hands, which was another way of saying ‘Fine, have it your way’. The blue frog continued recounting her story to the masses, “His collection of specimens was truly astounding: everything from various insects, to snakes, to some sea creatures. There was one frog—an albino one with purple eyes like two glowing amethysts—that caught my attention.

“‘Don’t touch it,” he said, “It’s been behaving erratically and we aren’t sure what species it is. It’s maybe the only one of its kind.”

“But as I gazed into the eyes of that petit frog, I felt like it was calling to me. Putting me in some kind of trance that I didn’t have the mental strength to break free from. And, like a fool, once the scientist left the room, I stuck my hand into the tank and pulled the frog out, stroking it’s damp skin with my first two fingers. It purred and purred, and I thought it was pretty funny how a frog was imitating a cat so...I treated it like one. But then I heard footsteps and I quickly put the frog back in its tank before the guy arrived back in the room—but the damage was already done. I didn’t notice anything was wrong until I arrived back home...and here I am today.”

The audience murmured again.

“Oh dear, it was your fault,” Amphi frowned, “I am sorry.”

Rupan-taran sulked, “Don’t be…”

“You said ‘many moons ago’, how long, exactly?”

“It must be…,” she looked up at the expanse of sky above him, “Weeks? Time doesn’t seem to matter to me anymore, especially not when surrounded by such lovely frogs. Without even knowing my story, they took me in like one of their own.”

“Your complements are noted and returned,” Sir Chara said, speaking on behalf of the Kingdom.

“It was only a few days ago when I decided to call you. I could’ve called one of my own friends in the environmental sciences department, but I...I don’t know,” Rupan-taran sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the log, “I preferred if you did it.”

“Did _it?_ ” the Minister repeated, furrowing his brow.

Rupan-taran looked at Chara, who looked back at Rupan-taran. She croaked in Frog and Chara croaked back. By the gesticulations of the two creatures, the conversation was not a pleasant one. The audience, too, was unaware of the details as they shrugged and rubbed their bald heads.

Rupan-taran threw her head into her hands and sighed. She knew he had to ask. It would be rude to invite the Minister to this place only to send him away without having done anything (especially on his day off!). But not only was it embarrassing enough that she was a Chalsidian metamorphosed into a dart frog because of her own follies, but the method she had to undertake to return to her regular self was so personal...so uncomfortable to even consider, let alone ask about. But she had no choice.

After a few abductions and adductions of her fist, she rose to her feet and stood at attention in front of Minister Amphidamas. “A kiss,” she declared, “Only a kiss will make me turn back into who I am supposed to be.”

Amphi’s face contorted in every direction like a harlequin made of putty, “A kiss?!” he sputtered, “A kiss!?”

The congregation gasped with the same incredulity. Even Chara bit one of his fingers in suspense.

“It is said that a single peck will return me back to my personhood,” Rupan-taran’s voice dropped to sotto, “If—if you don’t want to, that’s fine...I can call on someone else.”

“No, I—” Without warning, Amphi did an about face and plodded towards the river. It was only earlier that day when he was disgusted by a frog’s tongue slapping across his skin and now he was expected to _kiss_ one? _“What lesson am I being taught here?”_ he thought, peering back at his wavering reflection in the water, _“Have I unknowingly wronged the frogs some time in the distant past and this is my comeuppance?...But Sir Chara said otherwise; he said that my efforts with the organisation have helped them...Is this my belated gift, then? But considering I never asked for one, can’t it be returned?”_ He stroked his bi-coloured beard and tapped his bottom lip with his finger, _“But despite how it pains me, it must be done. Regardless of what form they take, who would I be—as a Minister of Chalsis—if I did not help my people? And the fact that Rupan-taran had taken the liberty to ask_ me _of all people to assist her in this endeavour...I would be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t the slightest bit flattered. Yes...this is what I shall do and I shall do it happily.”_

With a nod and a smile he lumbered back.

“What is your decision, Minister?” Sir Chara asked upon his return.

In the eyes of Rupan-taran, Amphi could see the conviction burning within her. The air seemed to be stagnant, with everyone waiting with baited breath for the final word. A leaf could have fallen miles away and the sound would have been clear as if it had fallen before them. “ _My people”,_ he repeated in his mind, “I have decided that, yes, I will do it,” he acquiesced, “For your sake.”

Rupan-taran’s throat-sac expanded and she let out the most booming RIBBIT from that tiny body. The others leaped in their spots, shuffling the detritus below them and croaking in glee.

Amphi smiled, “Well, let’s not tarry any longer, you’ve waited long enough for this moment.”

“Quite right!” Sir Chara added.

Amphi instinctively dusted the log of any stray dirt and sat beside the blue and black-spotted frog who immediately jumped into his lap. He picked her up in the cup of his palms and gazed into her eyes, scrutinizing them as he did with Chara back in the bubble. If there was one thing he learned from today, it was reaffirmation that frogs were rather beautiful creatures up close. Their striking colours reminded him of his own wardrobe; they were bright spots in a sea of greys, tans, and browns, just like him at the Federation induction ceremony.

Rupan-taran blinked, “This is as awkward for me as it is for you,” she whispered, her cheeks turning a hazy shade of pink.

“Don’t worry,” Amphi responded, wondering why it was now him giving the words of encouragement, “Shall we?”

The frog nodded and closed her eyes. The Minister did the same and puckered his lips. Slowly he brought the being closer and closer to him until _smack!_ The two became one flesh.

“Dash my wig, it’s actually happening!” Sir Chara exclaimed, hopping off the log and joining his extended family, who were all covering their mouths to contain their gasping.

A whirlwind of pixie dust swirled around Amphidamas and Rupan-taran, shrouding the two in a veil of twinkling flecks of starstuff. The sun shone down like a spotlight upon them both giving them the appearance of two angels in Arcadia. Then a breeze blew in, spreading the pixie dust about and revealing, not one, but _two_ people locked at the mouth.

But Amphi didn’t get the chance to see the transformation..

Because as soon as their lips parted, he fell back onto the cold, damp earth.

And passed out.

~~~~

“Was this supposed to happen?”

“I’m...not sure.”

“Maybe it was from shock?”

“Do people of your kind usually fall unconscious after a kiss?”

“Not usually, no...”

~~~~

“Did you bring the smelling salts?”

“Yes, here they are.”

“...There we go. Hopefully that brings him around.”

“And here’s a wet rag for his forehead.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~

“This is all my fault isn’t it?”

“Of course not. You have done nothing wrong, my dear.”

(an audible sigh)

~~~~

“He’s waking up!”

“Oh brilliant! Rupan-taran!”

(rapid sounds of feet hitting against wooden floors) “I’m here! I’m here!”

Amphidamas’ eyes fluttered open. The first face he saw was not a familiar one—a tan-skinned Chalsidian woman with glistening doe eyes and a mound of dark curls framing her face. Her full lips were downturned, as were her bushy (but well-manicured) eyebrows.

“Minister...?” she squeaked, “Are you alright?”

Amphi rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, “Rupan…?” he said, with a slight rasp.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“I...see the spell has been broken, thank Them,” His head fell to the side and he noticed that he was no longer in the swamp. _Far_ from the swamp, by the looks of it. But definitely _not_ in the middle of a nebula. Why, he was in some kind of building. In a room made of concrete walls slathered in yellow paint and accented with colourful geometric artwork that reminded him of the kind he’d made over the years. A large window, whose curtains were ajar, helped to illuminate the room without so much as one shadowy spot. On the nightstand was a novel with a tasseled bookmark sticking out from the last few pages. Nightstand? His eyes veered downwards and saw that he laid upon a plush blue-patterned comforter with matching pillows.

“I’m at home?” he mumbled, “How...how did I get here? I don’t remember a thing.”

“You fainted and we—some of the frogs and I—brought you back,” with a nod she gestured to the other side of the bed where four frogs sat. One he recognised as Sir Chara, but the other three he had no recollection of meeting.

“Fainted?” he said, sitting up and patting his face with the dampened towel.

“Mhmm. But are you alright?”

“I believe so...But what’s important is that _you_ are. Now you may live your life as you were born to.”

“Yep! I couldn’t have done it without your help, though,” A grin beamed across Rupan-taran’s youthful countenance and Amphi waved his hand to say ‘Oh, it was nothing,’ but he was really quite glad it all worked out.

They all spent the remainder of the evening at Amphi’s home. He was finally able to fill his stomach with something other than sparkling wine and Rupan-taran was finally able to fill hers with something other than fried grasshoppers and roasted dragonflies. The other three frogs introduced themselves as Zaida, an old maid who crochets lace doilies out of spiders’ webs; Adhama, a fisherman; and Khadra, a busybody with good intentions.

The frogs told Amphidamas the story of how they managed to survive as long as they have in his house while escaping the inquisitive, prying eyes of the cats who were on patrol (answer: they jumped in Rupan-taran’s numerous pockets). But much to Rupan-taran’s chagrin, she butted in with the fact that she’ll _still_ have to thoroughly clean her field clothes because, despite being in safekeeping, the frogs couldn’t help but fear for their mortal lives.

One other thing they all had in common was that all four frogs bemoaned the dearth of meat products in his home. From the moment Amphi removed the first pot to the moment the dishes were served, they interrogated him on the lack of seafood in the curried stew and of minced, crispy beetles in the bread.

“Where is the _nutty arthropod flavour?_ The _crunch?_ ” Adhama groaned, crossing his arms and sticking his nose up at the bowl of vegetables.

But it was complementary food and Rupan-taran scolded them for their bad hospitality.

“How dare you all bring such attitudes to the table?” she scolded, her finger wagging in the air, “Would you rather us eat _you_ instead?”

The frogs could not contest this, so they simply ate what was put in front of them. By the end of the meal, the frogs all took turns in burping and rubbing their satisfied bellies. Adhama even asked for seconds and he ate it quicker than the first time.

Later they shared casual conversation about whatever struck their fancy. It wasn’t until the moon was bearing her all overhead when Amphi’s visitors departed and he was able to curl up with an animal other than a damp amphibian and take a proper slumber in his bed.

But he stayed wide awake for hours after they’d left.

Thinking, ruminating…

My, what a strange day it had been.


	4. Chapter 4

A week later Amphidamas was granted another day off from the toils of work. As per usual, he spent it reclining in his lawn chair under the old willow tree with _Treasure Planet_ cracked open to the beginning chapters. After last week’s debacle, he swore not to consume any more alcohol for as long as he breathed air, and opted for a refreshing sweet tea instead. Sweet tea never gave him any trouble, no sir.

The morning went just as well as it could have. He woke up; made himself look presentable for no one but himself; and dined on a traditional Chalsidian breakfast of tea, assorted vegetables, bread, and eggs. All the while he scoured the local newspaper and chuffed at the lack of newsworthy stories with each passing page.

_“Now to the good stuff,”_ he thought, flipping to the back pages where the crossword puzzle lay in its monochromatic glory. He only got so far when Mitzi, his darling tuxedo cat, hopped onto the table and tore the papers away, flinging them to the ground where Theropontigonus, the other kitty, tore them to shreds without mercy.

“You naughty kitties!” he scolded, “I had only just figured out the answer to five down! B-O-S-C-H. Of the Hieronymus variety. But it doesn’t matter now,” he sighed, “No, it does _not_ matter now.”

He pushed his chair back with his legs and carried his dishes to the sink, opening the window above to bring in the fresh air and ‘cleanse’ the place out (his own quirk that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things). Then he grabbed the shredded pieces of newsprint and tossed them into the recycle bin, but Theropontigonus was having none of that. He attacked the bin like a chewy mouse toy and when the mouse keeled over, he pulled out the wadded gazette and tossed it back and forth in his paws, purring in delight.

“Why anyone bothers with store-bought pet toys is beyond me,” Amphi mused.

Afterwards, he fed and cleaned the cockatiel’s cages. The cockatiels were a friendly couple with their orangey-orange cheeks and enviable coiffure. They squawked and squawked but did nothing else except rub their faces along one another as they waited for their home to be spruced from top to bottom. 

When it was the rabbits’ turn, they remained in relative silence as they filled their bellies with carrots and bobbed their fluffy fluff tails.

“Whew,” Amphi sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, “Another day, another crick in the neck. But it’s worth it, isn’t it?” He said to Cleïo, one of the marshmallow-looking bunnies who made it no secret that the carrot was much more interesting than whatever her owner was saying, “Yes, it issss. Yes it is worth ittttt,” he cooed, scratching Cleïo on the crown of her head with his index finger, “All for youuuu, Cleïo Clue Clue.”

Later, when the sun was beginning to be on the downswing from being perfectly overhead, Amphi sipped his iced tea and got quite far in his reading when he began to feel a peculiar sensation in his limbs. The feeling was similar to the tingling numbness when one’s leg falls asleep but much more pervasive.

“Ooh, oh my,” he cringed, “I’ve never had this happen before; this must be the consequence of the endless paperwork I laboured over during the past few days. Ooh…”

A few seconds later the tingling subsided and he thought no more of it.

Until a couple more chapters in and the feeling came back two-fold. He slammed his book on the table and muttered profanities that weren’t actually profanities but were meant to be taken as such, and wiggled his arms like when one’s hands are wet but there’s nowhere to dry them off on. He did not wiggle his feet because, despite being in the comfort and seclusion of his own backyard, he felt dashed awkward wriggling himself in that way. Instead, he resorted to pulling off his loafers with his toes and tapping his bare feet against the grass.

The longer Amphidamas wriggled, the more the sensation seemed to spread; making his face twist and his teeth grit against one another (much to the chagrin of his dentist). So he stopped. And surrendered himself to the madness. “My gosh what is overtaking me!?” he groaned, “It’s like I…” A large burp escaped his lips, “Good heavens!” He went to place a hand on his chest, but his hand was not his hand. His fingers had become bulbous at the tips and the nails were morphing, becoming one with his skin. Similarly, his pinkie and ring fingers were mutating into one another, forming their own mono-digit. The pores in his hands started to secrete and were clammy no matter how much he tried to wipe them on his robes, “No...this can’t be happening!” Amphi whimpered, his voice quivering like the hands he held in front of him, “I rebuke this! I am _not_ turning into a frog! I am _not_ a frog!”

As much as he didn’t want to, he glanced down at his feet that, too, had succumbed to the same amphibious fate, “NO! I say! This will not happen to me! Not today, not tomorrow, not ever! I have done _nothing_ to deserve this dreadful kismet! I am a man! A _humanoid!_ Not a frog, a snake, a salamander, nor anything else!”

It was there when he felt a compulsion to touch the top of his head, and when he did he didn’t feel hair. The wispy, white locks that he took great pride in fixing up every morning was gone. His fear had finally come to fruition and he thanked the G—s that there wasn’t a looking glass in front him at that very moment. His blue and white goatee had also gone the way of the wind.

“Oh, what’s the point anymore?” Amphi mewled, throwing up his hands and flopping back into his seat, “It’s inevitable…I am no longer me. _Cogito, ergo non sum._ ” His face dropped ten storeys. In the corners of his eyes he could feel tears welling but he didn’t feel comfortable wiping them away with his sticky, wet hands so he let nature take its course.

Nature had come to win, and today he was stuck in checkmate.

The full transformation took only a few minutes and, from an observer’s perspective, hardly notable. There wasn’t any fanfare or fairy dust sprinkled about when it happened...he just... _shrunk_ —clothes and all. A chartreuse frog with light orange digits; blue legs and sides; and scarlet eyes. The final _pièce de résistance_ was the donning of the golden silk vestment from his taller self. No, despite his reservations, he was still _him_.

As Amphi sat on his wicker chair, his legs folded up like in the traditional frog style, he contemplated his potential choices moving forward:

He could adapt and assimilate (absolutely NOT)

He could try and find someone to kiss a la Rupan-taran (possible, but what if the spell carried on ad infinitum? It would be foolish to continue passing the metamorphose on from one person to the next—much more sensible to nip it in the bud while he could)

Ask for help amongst the Chalsidian people (no; too much attention. He didn’t want this folly to end up in the history books)

Go back into the Frog Kingdom and ask for help there (the pertinence of the ‘help’ he may or may not receive was questionable, but if you don’t ask then you don’t receive. Yes, this was to be the path he’d take; it was the most logical.)

Amphidamas hopped down from his seat and “Oof!” he exclaimed, after falling face first into the brush below. One never realises how high a height something is until they’ve been shrunk to 1/100th of their natural size.

He continued hopping along through his backyard and through the beaten path until he was back into the heart of the forest. Logs that once looked puny now towered over him like fences; the trees like skyscrapers; and deer even more so—giants who could step on him at any moment if they weren’t paying attention. As for the insects...well, they didn’t seem to bother him anymore. And there were a lot more to see now that he was so close to the earth. In fact, they looked rather tasty…why deny yourself an afternoon snack?

He spotted a tan slug slithering along the top of a broken tree branch, a trail of slime marking the way they had come from. The slug watched as a cricket chirp chirped in the detritus, not making an effort to appear inconspicuous.

From a distance, Amphi watched both the slug and the cricket. He licked his lips and could imagine the nutty, smoky crunch of the insect mixing with the bitter, finger-licking taste of the mollusc...ooh! A two-for-one special this was, indeed! With trepidation, he stepped closer to them both.

_“I’ll go for the cricket, first,”_ he thought, _“They move quicker and if it ever hopped away it could be difficult to find them again. Once caught, the slug, in all it’s slow-moving glory, would take another hour to move itself off the tree branch giving me ample time to lasso it right into my belly.”_

The cricket stopped its chirp, but did not move from where it was perched. It only blinked. Then the slug blinked. But Amphi did not blink. He unfurled his long, sticky tongue and snapped it against the cricket’s brown body, dragging the helpless insect into the depths of his mouth.

_“Oh, my!”_ he marvelled, “ _I see why the frogs consider them to be a delicacy. If there was a store that sold these, I’d buy a bushel!”_

The slug stopped in its tracks. “Awwww, mannnn,” it drawled, slamming a tiny fist against the wood. A moment later its mucus-covered, tubular body began to rotate around the branch, back in the direction from whence it came. Hearing the mollusc lament his failed attempt of catching sustenance made Amphi pout from remembering his vegetarian roots.

_“With two words that dastardly slug has managed to pull at my heartstrings; I can’t eat him now!”_ He twisted his mouth to the side, _“That poor cricket swimming in a pool of acid...he had hopes and dreams too, didn’t he? Oh, I feel horrible…plants are alive in their own special way but at least they don’t give me a reason to sympathise.”_

The slug took a detour and bounded off the branch, falling into a small mound of leaves. Taking its time, it slithered past Amphi, who was brooding with his head rested against his hand like a human, and made its way to another branch. There, it sucked up a spider who was twitching on his back and carried on slithering without giving the meal a second thought.

_“Well I’m glad to see you’ve found a substitute snack as quickly as you did? Even if it was a spider.”_ Amphi furrowed his brow in confusion as he stood and unconsciously dusted off his bottom before contorting back into the typical frog position, _“I’ll carry on with my peregrination, now. I’d rather not spend countless days stuck in this body if I don’t need to.”_

He continued leaping along the forest floor, denying himself any additional stops for stray flies swarming around or searching for where the odd cricket sound was coming from.

Soon he came to the glistening Winding River with the immaculate log and the angelic sunbeam. Once again, there was no one in sight and it’s not like the place was a sprawling suburb where you could knock on doors or enter a shop and ask for help.

_“I recall how Sir Chara stood on that log and croaked to bring everyone to attention. Maybe that’s what I should do? But I don’t need the entire population to tend to me; only the few friends I had made last week.”_ He huffed, _“That man really should’ve given me his address. Or at least a way for me to call on him.”_

Amphidamas jumped onto the log, “As this is the only way I know, it’ll have to do,” he said aloud. But when he tried to croak, only a whimper (relatively speaking) was forced through his gullet. _“How embarrassing…,”_ he thought, and glanced around to see if anyone was watching. When the coast was clear he tried again but could only achieve a diminutive _mezzo-piano._

“This is _useless_!” he blurted in a _fortissimo_ accented with a _sforzando_ on the third beat, “Helloooo!? Can anyone hear meeee!?” he continued with the same dynamic range.

There was a rustling from the trees and the flip-flop and crunch-crunch of webbed feet stepping on crispy leaves. The sound became louder and crispier with each step until a familiar face—the purple-speckled Khadra with the bright blue lipstick—hopped up beside him.

“Hi!” she said, smiling from ear to ear.

“Khadra? Oh, how wonderful it is to see you!”

Her face went blank, then she stood and pretended to flip her hair with a self-serving smirk, “So you’ve heard of me?” she said, batting her eyes coquettishly.

Amphi pursed his lips. Was he going to have to do this _again?_ Introduce himself to every frog each time they were out of each other’s eyesight for longer than five minutes? But then again, he couldn’t expect anyone to recognise him in his new body.

He reminded her of who he was and her eyes bulged even more than they already were,

“ _You’ve_ turned into one of _us!?”_ she gasped, “Did the spell backfire?!”

“I would hazard a guess...but—”

“Well since you’re now a true amphibian, I _must_ show you around the Kingdom. No, wait! I’ll just show the spots _I_ frequent—I’m the best at finding the most hoppin’ places around here. Did you know I won ‘Grooviest Frog’ two years in a row at the sock-hop? And I only started going two years ago! Maybe I can show you around the dance floor one of these days,” she giggled, “Or would you rather I take you back to my hideaway? It’s a quaint place, but don’t think I use ‘quaint’ as a synonym for minimalism and like...I dunno...shabby chic. It’s more like a mansion in its own right. Anyway, I just cleaned, but I’m always clean so there was really nothing for me to do except re-organise my makeup boutique,”

Amphidamas lifted a brow, “ _Makeup boutique?_ ” He said.

“Mhmm, you don’t get looking like this (she gestured at her face) without makeup, dahhh-ling. I do have natural beauty, of course, but there’s nothing wrong with a bit of accentuation—Is that a word? Accentuation?”

Amphi nodded apprehensively.

_“What even is the point of this conversation?”_ he wondered, _“Like I care about her beauty and dance routine! I’m in the middle of an identity crisis!”_

“...Guys around here try to woo me or whatever but I don’t let them. I’m _celibate,_ alright? So don’t try nothing. I’ll kiss ya but that’s it!”

“I’m not interested,” he deadpanned, looking up at her with a stoic expression of apathy.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say at first. Hey, you know what,” she grabbed his hand, pulling him up, “I think I will take you back to my place. I’m digging this talk of ours.”

Before Amphi could utter a single syllable, he found himself being dragged off the log, through the dirt and leaves and broken twigs. “Excuse me!” he snapped, untwining her fingers from his wrist and falling straight onto his bottom.

“What?” she said, looking back.

“I don’t _want_ to ‘woo’ you or dance with you or anything else! I just want to be back the way I was!” He rubbed his temples and sighed, “I’m sorry. I never like to raise my voice but, please, if I’m to make myself a guest in your home you must give me a chance to speak as well.”

Khadra shrugged, “Alright, sure,” and reached out her hand.

Amphi held out his own hands in front of his chest, “Um, _no_ , I can make my own way, thank you.”

So he followed behind Khadra through the dirt and leaves and broken twigs until they reached a terracotta house with a green door and green windows with shutters on the outside. The surrounding yard was covered in hyacinths and daffodils of every colour imaginable (she explained that they were flowers given to her by past loves), and smooth river rocks made for a makeshift fence.

“You’ve done a lovely job with the decorating,” he said, approaching the crazy paving that led up to the front entryway.

“Aw, shucks, thanks,” she unclasped the door and went through the threshold, “Come in, come in!” she said, beckoning.

So he did.


	5. Chapter 5

Being in Khadra’s home felt like an optical illusion. Outside, when surrounded by mile-high trees and other vegetation, one felt diminutive and invisible in the grand scheme of things. A blip in the vast world of Mother Nature.

But inside, where all the furniture from the couches to the tables were proportioned to fit a frog (or a toad)’s body, one could imagine they weren’t a frog at all! Of course, it’s not common knowledge that amphibians have homes that they furnish like any other humanoid species, but that similarity is what was so mind-boggling to Amphidamas at first glance.

Why, she even had artwork on the walls! If it wasn’t for the little things—like an acorn lid being used as an overhead light fixture—he could close his eyes and imagine that nothing had changed within him.

~~~~

Like a princess at the ball, Khadra strolled around her living room set before situating herself on the sofa across from Amphidamas with her legs crossed at the knee, “So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“I know this is a ridiculous question to ask because if you knew of a solution you would’ve provided it to Rupan-taran when she was in need...but I need a way to return to my rightful form.”

“She kissed you so...why not just…?”

“I don’t want this affliction, if you’d pardon my choice of words, to be continuously passed on to every Chalsidian like a game of telephone. _It stops with me.”_

“That’s so sweet of you.”

“Thank you, but it’s only the right thing to do.”

“Hmmm…”

“Yes?”

“I’m thinking.”

“I see that. About what?”

Khadra furrowed her brow, “I don’t know…,”

Amphidamas resisted the urge to throw his head into his palms, “Do you have any ideas of what I can do? Who I can ask?”

“I do have an idea…”

“Go on.”

“I think I’d like to dance.”

“Dance.”

“Yes...I feel in the mood…” she sauntered over to a miniature stereo with a built in karaoke setting and flipped the switch. A funky beat reverberated through the walls at a volume that could’ve made the walls shake, but she flipped the switch back off before it had a chance to occur. “No, not that one,” Khadra bent down beside a crate of cassettes shuffled through. The plastic cases clinked and clashed against each other as she burrowed her hand deeper and deeper within the box. “Here we are!” and she replaced one cassette for another.

It was another funky beat, much heavier than the last. Synthesizers warbled and sizzled to provide the melody and at least four different singers in varying degrees of falsetto provided the soulful harmonies.

_“Get up, get up, get up, get dooowwwnnn...to DJ Tadpole’s...funky froggy sounddddd! Aaaahh he’s got the hottest track around...yeah yeah, he’s got the hottest track around…”_

Khadra moonwalked away from the jukebox, her head bobbing in time with the music. She shimmied her body and shook her tail feathers as she danced around the room with no concern as to who might be watching.

Amphi crossed his arms in peevishness. Despite the deafening music, he could still think as clear as ever, _“Instead of answering my query, she puts on a disco album! I can’t believe it! I expect she’ll soon ask me to join her. Well, guess what? I’m not! First of all, I don’t dance_ (After making his dancing debut at last year’s Spring Festival after years of abeyance, he decided to never embarrass himself in that way again if he could help it. It was true that he lacked any kind of innate sense of rhythm) _and secondly, I have more pressing matters to attend to!”_

Khadra shimmied up to Amphi, “Come oooonnn, come oooon,” she pleaded, “Join me!”

“Absolutely not!” he said, averting his eyes.

She pouted a long pout and used the remote control on the table to lower the stereo’s volume, “Why not?”

He told her the reasons and she rolled her eyes indignantly, “Those are stupid reasons. I’ve seen everyone dance and not once have I ever ever judged them the way you judge your own self. It’s not about how perfect your dancing is—everyone knows we can’t all be master choreographers—but that doesn’t mean you can’t express yourself in a way that makes you feel groooooovy. And to your second point, you’re way too uptight.”

He leaped to his feet, “Uptight?! I’m not uptight!”

“Uh-huh, yeah, okaaay…,” she crossed her arms and stuck up her nose.

“How am _I_ uptight, pray tell?”

“I dunno, it’s just the vibe you give off. Like…” she tapped her chin, “Someone who thinks crossword puzzles are the peak of entertainment.”

“Far from the _peak_ of entertainment, but they’re quite fun for what they are.”

Khadra tilted her head to the side and looked at him with a blank expression that read, ‘See? This is what I mean! Booorring and uptight!’

“Just because I like crossword puzzles doesn’t mean I’m uptight. I’m very free-spirited in my own way. Last week I decided to plant watermelon in my backyard. _Watermelon!_ Before I was concerned about how much space they take up with the winding and twining vines but I finally decided to take the plunge. I hope for some delicious sweet treats in the coming months!”

Khadra scratched her head, “Amphi, that’s, uh, cool and all but I just want you to dance with me. And then when we’re done we can talk more about your...problem.”

“You said that before and we got nowhere!”

“I mean it this time. I’ve thought about it and I know someone who can help you better than I can...I’m serious...I am! Really!”

Amphidamas gave an exasperated sigh but agreed to shimmy _one_ time in exchange for her infinite wisdom. Khadra beamed and turned up the volume again.

“Okay! Let me teach you my favourite moves!”

She walked over to a spot with more maneuverability and bobbed her head until she became one with the beat. Then she hopped once to the left and clapped, hopped once to the right and clapped, then wiggled herself down and up, “Got it? That’s step one.”

Amphi nodded and walked beside her. Step one seemed easy enough; jumping to the left and right, who couldn’t do that? He waited until he became one one with the beat as well (it _was_ the kind of groovy music that reminded him of his youth!) and stepped to the left (clap), right (clap), then went down and up, “How was that?”

“Not good at all,” she frowned, shaking her head. “Put more rhythm into it!” She repeated the moves again and Amphi made sure to scrutinize every inch of motion she did.

_“Ah, she is good,”_ he thought, _“She’s wiggling her hips and shoulders...ah I see…”_

He tried again. Left (shimmy shimmy shimmy clap), right (shimmy shimmy shimmy clap), dooooown and up! “There! That was better wasn’t it!”

“ _Waaaaaay_ too much swing! You were like a jellyfish. I should call you Jellydamas! Jelly, jelly, jelly,” she laughed, poking his arm, “But it was better than before, I’ll give you that! Anyway, here’s step two.”

The following moves had similar footwork to the previous step, but instead of jumping left and right with both feet, she kept one foot somewhat steady on the floor and the other pumped up and down twice. The motion was then repeated with the feet reversed. At the same time, she held her arms out to one side and pulsed them to the same rhythm twice, then flipped sides. After eight counts, she swooped down to the floor like a pendulum and repeated the process all over again.

Amphi’s forehead shot up, and, noticing this, Khadra reassured him that it was simpler than it looked. Besides his limbs vacillating between being stiff and being wiggly, she applauded him for getting the gist and instructed him to put both steps together.

“Yes! There you have it!” she cheered, “Look at ya! Dancing like you were born in the club!”

His countenance beamed with disco energy and he shimmied on his own as he waited for the next step, “Is there more!?”

“Oh, _now_ you want more? Alright, here goes it!”

The third and final step was a series of steps, (controlled) flailing, kicks, and spins. Any other day Amphi would’ve stepped back and shied away, admiring the feat from a distance, but once Khadra did her part, he leaped back onto the dance floor and did his groove thing like nothing before. He even added his own moves in between the choreography and ended with a backflip that fell into a jazz split!

“Ow!” he exclaimed.

Khadra’s mouth fell open.

“Careful, you’ll attract flies,” he said as he swaggered off the ‘stage’ with his head held high.

“How...how did you…?!”

“I subjected myself to the whims of the disco sound. Quite easy when you get the hang of it,” he responded. But in actuality, he had no idea how he managed to do any of those moves, especially the flip! And the split! Even back in his younger days he could never manage to drop himself into a split and pull himself back up without regretting it afterwards (and he was always too afraid to try any kind of gymnastics, so that was completely out of the picture).

“No way,” she chortled, “ _No. Way._ I take back everything I said about you being uptight, Amphi.”

“Now you’ll tell me your little secret?” He grinned, turning off the music and sitting back down on the sofa with his legs folded under him.

Khadra kicked up her feet as she walked over to the wall that she decided to lean upon. She placed one hand on her hip and the other she used to tap her bottom lip. She remained silent for a time, leaving Amphi’s smile to evanesce until nothing remained of it.

_“Why does she look so glum? What has gone wrong? Nothing. We danced, we laughed, and now she looks as though her favourite pet has died. I don’t regret taking her up on the offer to groove, but this is foolish. Does she mean to say that she_ doesn’t _know anyone who can help me?...Or does she lament having to tell me that there is no alternative to this life? No cure that can save me..._ us _?_ ”, Amphi thought, _“Oh, I wish she’d just say what she needs to say so we both can move on. The suspense is killing me!”_

Khadra sighed, “There’s a guy—”

Amphi leaned forward in his seat.

“You already know him—Adhama, the fisherman. I used to visit him down at the shore regularly when he was on the hunt for prawns and other tiny sea creatures. Every time I did, he’d tell me a new story or sing me a new sea shanty—and after all of those days I went to see him, he never repeated a single tale nor song. Not once. Unless I wanted him to.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Folk stories of the Frog people. How we were created, how we should behave, how we should live in harmony with one another and with the rest of nature’s kingdom. I think his favourite were the stories with morals because he used to always lecture me afterwards—not that I was a bad tadpole or anything (she laughed wistfully). Oh! Don’t think I mean to say that _you’re_ a bad person, Minister. Sorry.”

“I didn’t think you did,”

She smiled, “Well, I think he would be more of a help than I could ever be; I remember he would tell me a few tales about spells and magic and things like that...He’s brilliant. He’d catch the best tasting prawns too, I dunno how but I think he spoke to the ocean or something…”

“Thank you for the information, Khadra,” he said solemnly.

There was a brief moment of silence, but it felt like minutes had passed between them.

“Amphi?” she said, kicking her feet against the floor.

“Hm?”

“Umm...thanks.”

Amphi scrunched up his face, “Whatever for?”

“For being cool. I guess...When you turn back into a person, will you still visit us here? I’d still like to take you out dancing one day... _proper_ dancing. Like at one of our nightclubs downstream? Or even one of yours?”

“I’d love to, but don’t think I’ll be doing any of the moves you saw me do earlier.”

“It’ll be a real treat, then, to see how you _really_ dance!”

Amphidamas drew in his lips and rolled his eyes playfully, “We’ll see about that! But now, I must go.”

“Oh, right, sorry. Umm...Adhama should be somewhere along the shore. He has a little dinghy he takes out there. If you don’t see him there, then he should be either at the fishmonger or his house. He lives in a burrow down the way.”

Amphi thanked her again and she saw him out. But when he stepped into the elements, the elements hit back! A gust of wind almost knocked him off his feet and the chill nipped at his nose.

_“Is it about to rain?”_ he thought, as he hopped to an area with enough of a clearing that he could see the sky. A dark expanse of puffy clouds stretched along the firmament, covering the sun in all its glory.

A frog began to croak loudly from a distance, and soon it was joined by a small chorus of others. The volume increased with each croak they made, until the noise was deafening. Their calls were not the same gleeful sounds they made back when he first visited the Kingdom. These were more eldritch in tone and made his stomach churn with a fear he didn’t understand.

But Amphi knew there were approximately five minutes until rainfall.

He didn’t know how he knew.

But that gave him just enough time to seek out Adhama.

Or so he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Rain beat down against the forest floor. Wind shook the tree branches, trimming them of their hair without so much as a warning, and scattering the shavings wherever they happened to land. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked and yet not a bird whistled or sang. Amphidamas knew it was hypocritical of him to stay outside in these kinds of conditions. Usually _he_ was the one providing weather updates to his fellow staff and telling the young bookworms to stay inside when the heavens opened, but this new body afforded him new-found freedom!

Also known as impetuousness...

There wasn’t a single soul out in the Kingdom that he could see, and after becoming soaked to the bone, he felt maybe it was best for him to wait out the storm like the safety-conscious citizen he knew he was.

 _“I could go back to Khadra’s home...but it’s so far away from where I am now. And once this storm blows over I’d have to walk the path_ again. _No, I’ll try to find shelter. But where? And how? Do I dig into the earth and push myself into the hole? Or I could knock on doors until I found someone willing to take in a stranger...Or I could...continue to go forth in trying to find Adhama? With this weather he’d surely be at home by now. Khadra gave me the directions and I think I understand them well enough.”_

Stubbornly, Amphi decided to stick with the latter option and continued to hop along the soaked humus until he reached the ‘meeting spot’.

 _“Right, she said to take a left in the direction of the bent tree…_ (he craned his neck) Ah. Must be that one. My, that _is_ a bent tree; I can’t believe I’ve never noticed that before...And then…’continue going straight until you reach the pinecone obelisk’...”

He passed the contorting tree, but when he did the rain started to pour with a vengeance. He could nary see further than ten feet (meaning twelve inches) in front of him. Everywhere he looked—left, right, and center—led to a curtain of clear, falling crystals.

“This won’t do,” he grimaced, “I have no choice but to hide away. I’ll go back to the log and crawl into its crevice.”

So he leaped back to the log at a quickening pace and—

“Aaaaaahh!” Amphi yelled as his feet fell from under him. His tiny, multicoloured figure slid down, down, past the bent tree and past the log and right into the path of the Winding River. He tried to grasp on to the dirt but the muck only congealed in his hands and the stands of grass and sedge were conveniently right on the boundary of what he was unable to grab.

The most disgusting mixture of dirt, sand, and rainfall slapped against his body, but the river was now in sight. He clinched his eyes shut and braced for sudden impact...

_SPLASH!_

Amphi thrashed his legs until his head was above water; his lungs gasping for air but still managing to spew out an array of colourful adjectives.

 _“Just my luck,”_ he thought.

“Oi! I think there’s summat owt there!” a deep voice called.

“What'd ya see?” another, slightly higher pitched, voice responded.

“Can’t tell...looks like...looks like a frog!”

“A frog you say? ‘Old on. Hey, frog!” the second voice called, “Hey!”

Amphi, still kicking his legs and paddling his arms, maneuvered himself to the general direction of the sound. The rain was still beating down, impairing his vision, but by narrowing his eyes he could see something approaching him from afar.

 _“Is that a boat I see?”_ he thought, _“In this weather?”_

From the veil of rain came a light blue bow then a mast carrying a white sail whipping in the wind.

 _“A dinghy?...A dinghy!”_ he slapped his hands against the current hoping that the sailors on board would take notice.

“There they are, Cap’n!” The deep voice yelled.

“Sink me! It _is_ a frog! Who goes there?!”

“Maybe we oughta reel them in first and ask questions later? Especially in this weather,”

“Aye, too right, too right…”

The boat stopped right by the stranded piece of reverse-flotsam and the Captain, a brown frog with a sailor’s hat made out of newsprint, tossed a life preserver right in the middle of Amphi, who grabbed hold of it and shuffled his feet as he was hoisted up into the little wooden vessel.

“...Thank you,” he croaked after flopping onto the deck and stretching himself out like a snow angel.

After doffing his cap, the skipper and his chief mate, a tall pink worm, prattled amongst themselves as they sailed the ship back to the mainland. Amphi wriggled his nose and sat to attention,

 _“My gosh, what is that terrible stench?”_ he thought, and swivelled himself around. A mound of guppies with moist, lifeless eyes stared down at him, their mouths ajar. Amphi’s eyes widened and he flipped himself around again before his gag reflex had a chance to process any of it.

“Land ho!” the captain yelled.

“Land ho!” the mate replied.

The worm and the frog jumped off the deck and brought the boat onto the sand.

“Do you need any help?!” Amphi shouted. The pounding rain coupled with his untimely fall was starting to give him the shivers. The last thing he wanted to experience was being stuck in a bed of leaves for a week.

“Nay, we’ve got it! You just sit pretty!” the worm answered.

So sit pretty he did, as the crew pulled the dinghy up the path where Amphi had only just slid down from and down into the log where he was _supposed_ to have been. The captain wiped his brow with his hand and the worm rubbed his brow against the smooth wood. Together they made themselves comfortable in the log and they didn’t even mind the concentrated noxious miasma the dead guppies were emitting.

“Well then!” The captain began, “Welcome to our makeshift home.”

“You live in this log?” Amphi asked. A small part of him wondered if he had met the right man.

“No, no. Just until the rain clears. Captain Adhama,” he extended a hand and Amphi shook it like a wet fish, “And my mate Wolsey.”

“Charmed,” Wolsey said with a wink.

Adhama removed his hat and wrung out the excess water. How it managed to stay erect atop his head like a bearskin was a marvel, “Now, what were you doing out there taking a dip in the middle of a storm?”

Amphi climbed off the boat and sat himself in front of the two chaps, leaning against the hull, “Looking for you! And I wasn’t taking a dip; the ground was slippery and I took a tumble...Anyway, your friend, Khadra told me you were an excellent storyteller.”

“Khadra?” He scrunched up his face, “Are you another one of her _friends_?”

“No, no! Well...in a sense. But not in the way you’re thinking. I—” It suddenly flashed in his head that the frog didn’t recognise him. He introduced himself and Adhama produced the same shock and awe as Khadra had. The worm ruffled his brow and gasped too, but because he had no idea these strange metamorphoses could occur in a person.

“Don’t tell me you’ve come just to hear me recite folktales and fables? I sense there’s something stirring within you,” Adhama continued.

“Indeed. Khadra told me that you’re quite knowledgeable with the lore and history of your people. I was wondering if there was anything referencing the same change I’ve gone through? I mean no offence, but I’d desperately like to return home as my true self.”

“Aye, aye, I understand,” the frog stroked his chin, “Let me think a spell…”

Amphi set his lips into a hard line. Wolsey pulled out a leaf from his satchel and nibbled on it, but when he saw his new acquaintance watching him blankly, he offered a piece.

“Enjoy it,” Amphi responded, and the worm continued to chew bit by bit in the relative silence.

 _“How odd is it that a frog has a worm as a friend,”_ he mused, _“When I was lusting over the cricket earlier, the last thing on my mind was friendship. And considering the captain still eats meat, I can tell he didn’t have the same revelatory experience as I did. Or maybe it only extended as far as the worms? That’s a bit unfair…”_

The rain that once slammed against the wood above them soon started to taper off until there was no more than a slight pitter-patter.

“A lovely little rain, that?” Adhama said, interrupting his own train of thought.

“Aye, now we can get on home!” Wolsey cheered as he gulped down the last section of leaf.

The two sailors helped to pull the guppies out from the netting and slap them into a bucket that Adhama had slung across his chest. All the while Amphi stood idly by, watching them with a rather cross expression spread across his face.

 _“I’ve never been one to brood about my place in the universe; whether or not life has any meaning or if my presence is really needed, but now I am beginning to ponder these questions. How is it that every time I ask people for help they ‘_ think _’ for an interminable amount of time only to have their thoughts derailed by some unrelated subject? I pride myself on being a patient person—after all, it took nerves of steel and the patience of a saint to finally make Captain Kirk remember that my planet was only seconds away from being bombed!—but this is becoming tedious. I don’t ask for much, goodness knows, but it’s like pulling teeth to receive the little I do ask for.”_

“...Amphi?” Wolsey repeated.

“What is it?!” Amphi scowled.

“Geez, don’t bite my head off! We’re going to the Cap’n’s place, coming?”

He wanted to say something to the effect of, “I have no choice!” but he merely replied, “Coming!” in a cloying tone before running to catch up with the others.

Captain Adhama’s house was not a house a la his friend Khadra’s, but a burrow just as she had said. A wood-panelled door with a brownish-yellow stone knob opened to a living room whose furniture consisted of wood, wood, and more wood. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration, but there were a myriad of fish skeletons hung on the walls in the shape of anchors and leviathans.

After throwing their catch into an icebox, Adhama lit a few candles and asked Wolsey to fetch him his instruments. Amphi, still standing in the doorway, held a hand over his mouth and pretended to gag.

“Oh, yeah, you’re one of those plant-eaters aren’t you?” The captain chuckled and pulled out a guppy from the box, slapping it onto his workbench, “Ummm...I guess you could stand outside until I’m done? Since the rain’s stopped.”

Wolsey returned with the bag of tools in his mouth and plopped it beside the fish. Wolsey asked what was the matter and Adhama explained.

“Ohhhh. I’ll accompany you outside, then, Amphidamas. Make you feel less lonely.”

Amphi shrugged and traipsed back out with the worm scooting behind him. They decided to use a freshly-fallen leaf as a blanket to rest upon and spent the intermittent time shooting the breeze. After asking about how he became involved with Adhama, Wolsey dominated the conversation by retelling his entire life’s story starting from the day he crept out of his cocoon. The gist of it was: Adhama threads his line with _dead_ worms but Wolsey had fallen into the container and begged for the frog to spare him his life. Adhama was skeptical, but Wolsey tried every persuasion trick in the book. And when that didn’t work he tried every joke in the book. That didn’t work either because all of the jokes were about worms and worm experiences. Still, with the amount of effort he put into his fooling, it was only fair to spare him his life. Adhama gave the stipulation that Wolsey must stay on as a crewmate for an outing and that deal was good enough to accept. Soon enough one outing turned to five and then to ten and then to the uncountables. “He was even my best man when me and the missus renewed our vows,” Wolsey said with a grin.

Adhama peeked his head out from the threshold, “Supper’s ready!”.

~~~~

The dinner table was set with no utensils or any of the traditional place settings Amphidamas was used to. As he sat in front of a stack of leaves (courtesy of the chief mate), he gawked as the other frog held the fried guppy in his hand like a club and tore at its flesh like Henry VIII chomping on a mutton chop. The worm, having had no hands, ate his meal like a prim and proper princess who never dared to stuff her mouth with food in front of guests.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” Adhama said through a mouthful of fish, “Remember what you told me!”

“Oh, right...yes, of course…,” Amphi grabbed one of the leaves and followed in Wolsey’s footsteps: minced bites to savour the pure, nondescript essence of the foliage, “Mm. Interesting flavour,” he lied, “Did you harvest this yourself?”

“Me wife does, aye. Every mornin’ she goes out with her lil’ basket and collects the fresh fall,” Wolsey drawled, “She gets the best, don’t she?”

Amphi took another bite, “Quite…” The meal wouldn’t be so bad if there was some kind of dressing or toppings added to it like a Chalsidian salad, but eating it plain like this almost made him crave a leg of mutton of his own. “But, Adhama,” he said, changing the subject to prevent any more senseless fibs, “You never answered me earlier about the folklore?”

Adhama gulped some water, “Oh right. What was your question again?”

“If a story similar to the problem I am facing at the moment is documented anywhere in your society’s mythology? Or history, for that matter.”

“Riiight. I remember now. Mmm…”

“What about the one about the moth and the butterfly?” The worm interjected.

Adhama waved his hand, “No, no. Those metamorphoses are documented on every planet. Amphi wants something more along the lines of one creature turning into a totally diff’rent creature, right?”

“Precisely.”

“The slug and the dragonfly!” The worm chirped again.

Adhama slammed his hand on the edge of the table, “Genius, Worm, genius!” and he kissed Wolsey on the top of his head, “That’s the story you’re looking for, Minister.”

The frog’s choice of words inspired Amphidamas’ next question: “Is there a library where I can read this story?” A part of him felt as though it would take another twenty hours to get the Captain to retell the tale.

“Alas, no.”

“I assume you will recite the story to me, then?”

“If you wish it.”

Amphi blinked.

Adhama blinked.

Wolsey nibbled.

 _“Of course I wish it! Why else would I come to your home; force feed dry, tasteless leaves to myself, and watch you tear a poor, helpless fish to shreds!?”_ The Minister screamed to himself, though his face was stoic.

“Please,” he said with a faint smile, “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Wolsey sat up straight as the skipper began the tale. Amphi leaned back and crossed his arms with a noticeably exasperated look spread cross his countenance. _“This transformation has made me so cynical nowadays. It pains me, but I am left with no choice.”_

“The slug travelled along the forest, always with his head down,

and always moving slower than everyone else. The slug bemoaned his

slug traits because the bigger, faster animals would always

come along and steal his food without him ever having

a chance to see them coming.”

Amphi looked askance at the other frog.

“But one day the slug ate a dragonfly that had

died right in front of his home. When he ate it, he turned

into the beautiful, agile insect of his dreams. To celebrate

his fortuity, he zipped up to the sky and flew and ate all

his belly could hold from sun up to sun down.

But soon it was time to go home,

“I’ll reach my house in record time! Faster than I ever could

as a slug!” he said.

Then he zoomed from the top of the trees to the forest floor,

but on the way down he got a stomach cramp

and slammed into a tree. Tumbling down, down, down

he went, his broken body lay strewn in front of Mr. Slugworth’s home.

“What’s that raucous?” Mr. Slugworth groaned as he opened the door.

When he saw the dead dragonfly he said,

“Thank goodness I am a slug!””

Whoops and hollers erupted from Wolsey’s mouth, “Ace story once again, yup! Heard it fifty times and still just as good as the first,”

Amphidamas rested his arm on the table and dropped his head in his hands. It certainly was _NOT_ the kind of story that was pertinent to him, but it _was_ a lovely fable for what it was—that was for sure. And Adhama told it beautifully, with distinctive voices for the two characters and an additional one for the narrator. For the sake of cordiality, Amphi complimented him through his teeth. Adhama bowed in his seat and pretended to accept an award for his talent.

 _“I would ask for another—more_ pertinent _—story,”_ Amphi mused, _“But I don’t think anything will come of my query—at least not from him. I wonder if there is someone else in the Kingdom who is aware of these stories? A proper historian, perhaps?”_ He posed this question to his two supper guests and the captain nodded.

“Zaida—you remember her? The old woman from your housewarming—she knows a thing or two. As she should because she’s older than my best mate and me combined. She lives not too far from here—in a house in the trees.”

“A house made from leaves!” chimed Wolsey.

“Yup, she sewed her own house.”

“ _Sewed it?_ ” Amphi asked with genuine curiosity.

“Don’t ask me for the specifics. I have _nooo_ idea. You can go down there now, you know. What time is it?” Adhama stuck his tongue straight in the air, “Yup, yup, she’d be home right now.”

“Thank you, both!” Amphi said, scooting back in his seat, “I hope this—”

“Woah woah, now,” the worm interjected, “You haven’t finished those leaves. Me wife works hard for them leaves and you’re not gonna go wasting ‘em,”

Amphi rubbed the back of his neck, “You...could always have them instead?”

The worm thought long and hard about this fact. And then he craned his tubular neck over to Amphi’s place setting and nipped the remaining foliage.

“Too right!” he said, “Deeelicious!”


	7. Chapter 7

Zaida’s treehouse wasn’t a long distance away from the Captain’s—in fact, it was virtually around the corner. With his sticky, webbed feet, Amphidamas was able to climb up the length of the oak tree and position himself right in front of the older lady’s sunset-coloured home. The composition of the place was a marvel, and before knocking on the front door Amphi took the liberty of admiring the handiwork.

“The time that must’ve gone into this!” he said aloud, “You can tell each leaf was carefully curated and cured so they could both withstand the elements _and_ achieve the colour scheme she desired...Oh, the stitching! The lattice pattern rivals even the best seamstresses in town!”

A second after knocking on the door, the elderly Zaida—who didn’t look a day over twenty—answered with a smile. Her fingers moved like a mechanical loom as she knitted what appeared to be a sweater of some sort, and her eyes beamed as though this was the moment she had been long waiting for.

“Minister Amphidamas!” she exclaimed in the warbly voice those up-in-age tend to have.

Amphi slapped his head in jest, “Good heavens! You remember me?” he gasped, “I thought I could travel virtually incognito around these parts!”

“I never forget a face. Or clothes as distinctive as yours—come in, won’t you?”

Amphi leaped through the threshold and was told to make himself comfortable, so he plopped himself on her floral sofa and did just that.

“Would you like some tea, Minister?” Zaida asked from the kitchen.

After ripping and running all day, he couldn’t decline! And the leaves he had eaten at Adhama’s dug-out had given him a terrible aftertaste that he just couldn’t shake.

“You know, I’ve been in the company of three different people today and not one has ever asked me for tea,” he said, swivelling to properly address her, “Thank you for that.”

She gave an affirmative hum as she put the kettle on, “The youth these days don’t adopt the old traditions anymore. You meet them and the first thing they want to do is take you dancing. No good! At least offer dinner first!”

Amphi chuckled, “Yes, that is what I’m used to as well. It’s a never-ending story, isn’t it? The previous generation lamenting the sentiments of the youth.” He had nothing against the three folks he had (re)met over the course of the afternoon, but it was a relief to finally be in the presence of someone who shared his own sensibilities.

~~~~

Zaida brought the tea in on a silver platter adorned with an assortment of biscuits. She stirred in two sugars for him and none for herself, and he helped himself to a handful of the homemade treats.

“Now, I imagine you didn’t come here just to visit little ol’ me,” she said, sipping her drink and resuming her knitting.

“Why couldn’t I have?” Amphi responded, dunking his biscuit into the herbaceous mixture, “I remember you being a lovely woman—frog.”

“You don’t seem like the type,” she replied without lifting her eyes from her materials.

“Someone earlier said I was ‘uptight’ and now you’re saying I’m...something else.”

“Well, Minister—”

“Please, call me Amphi,” he interrupted, “We’re not on formal terms and nor are we strangers, I would think?”

“As you wish, _Amphi_...Every time I make my way into Pharoton I pass by your kind at the capitol building. All dressed up, you all are, in your fancy robes and sashes with your heads held high and with an air that commands respect. Always rushing, too; I don’t see what the rush is, half of the time. We frogs may travel far over short periods of time, but we know when it's time to take a break and bask in the sun.

“I can only imagine what the capitol looks like inside. There must be papers flying like inebriated dragonflies and people collapsing into their hands with stress. Channel lines ringing off the hook and elevators constantly in motion.”

Amphi cleared his throat. It wasn’t... _not_ true, but it wasn’t as terrible of a place as she described. Despite how hectic the offices could be during a time of national importance, the culture was much different than the workplace environment of Earth or Eretria and the morale was much higher, too. “We ‘rush’ because we understand the importance of time. If there is a meeting at nine and someone arrives at five past, they’re practically grovelling because they feel as though they’ve held everyone back. We don’t mind it, it was only a five minute delay, but _efficiency_ is a key part of our culture. Why wait for tomorrow, what can be done today?

“But we _do_ know how to manage our free time, as well. If you’ve successfully completed your work for the day, you’re able to leave instead of being trapped twiddling your thumbs for the remaining four hours. I take it you haven’t been given the grand tour of the offices on Earth? People mucking about, filling time with frivolous meetings and bureaucracy. Did you know that sometimes they‘re _forced_ to work extra hours? The gall of it all! Here, when it’s the ‘official’ end of the day, the lights shut off. Everyone _leaves_.”

“Hmmmm,” Zaida said in the middle of a purl, “I stand mistaken,”

“But to your point of holding our heads high, is there something wrong with that?”

“I’ve heard horror stories from the Terran peoples of businessmen and government workers who care not about the people they work for or with.”

“We are not on Terran, my dear Zaida.”

“Quite right, thank the heavens.”

“Take pride in yourself, your work, and your planet and your head will naturally stand ten feet above the rest.”

“Words of wisdom, yes. I take pride in my knitting.”

“As you should! Your house should be in a museum with how intricate the design work is!”

Zaida’s cheeks flushed with red, “You flatter me, Minister.”

Because neither Captain Adhama nor his mate had any idea how she built her palace, Amphi took it upon himself to ask. Zaida set down her sweater and began to chronicle the process from start to finish: from the drafting stage to the final stitch. She made sure to emphasise that it was _not_ a solo effort; she was assisted by the collective help of her family of twenty children and her husband.

“I could not have done it myself,” she added.

“When I was at the Federation conference, a member of the council told me something to the effect of ‘teamwork makes the dream work’. An apt moral to your story,”

“Speaking of teams and dreams, you have yet to tell me your reason for coming!”

“Right, I haven’t,” he simpered. How the tables had turned, but at least he had a good reason for it! “I...actually _do_ need a favour.”

“Pah!”

“But a favour that requires nothing more than your wisdom.”

“Oh?”

Amphi informed Zaida of his troubles and potential solution and she nodded knowingly, “You’re on the right track. There is an ancient frog myth about this. Tell me, as I arrived late to Mademoiselle Rupan-taran’s conjuring, what happened for this to all arise?”

“She was put under a trance...by an albino frog with glowing purple eyes, if I remember correctly.”

“Not here, I hope!” she shrieked.

“No, in Eretria.”

A scowl appeared across the old frog’s face and she picked up her knitting again, “Of course! Those heathens,” she muttered to herself. “And when she kissed you, a week later you turned into a frog?...Do you know any more about her folly?”

“I’m afraid not.”

She tapped her knitting needles (which were two twigs) against her mouth and hummed, “Let me tell you what _I_ know, then, Minister,”

Amphi poured himself another cup of tea and gazed upon Zaida with dilated pupils like an eager school child ready for storytime.

“That was a sacred icon Mademoiselle saw. The Anura. They only appear in times of great distress for the frog people. When anyone gazes too long into their crystal eyes, they are stricken with the overwhelming urge to croak and ribbit. As you and her know, the process is not instantaneous, but it is one hundred percent effective. The Anura does this as a revenge, of sorts. ‘You've ruined my people, so I will make you share in that struggle,’” Zaida shuddered, “Those poor creatures out there...not just the frogs, but all of them. The Eretrians are a despicable lot; as if the individuals who have spent their lives surviving in their peaceful, natural habitats are less important compared to a luxury high-rise.”

Amphi’s face dropped, “My thoughts exactly. Rupan-taran’s mission for going there was to find a way to help the native populations but—”

“Shame what happened. It should have been someone else,”

“Not me, I hope?”

“No, no. One of them nature-killers.”

“Well is there any way to reverse this? I assume if I kissed someone else, the spell would only transfer to them instead?”

“Right. But, you don’t need to kiss them for the spell to be transferred. If you stared into a proto-frog’s eyes for a long enough time, the same effect would happen. In your case, however, there _is_ a way to eliminate the spell in its entirety—”

Amphi set down his cup and saucer onto the lace doily. He was so close to hearing the words of reckoning and yet he almost wanted to shut his ears and leap out the door while sputtering nonsense to himself to drown out Zaida’s instructions. What if he had to do something drastic like drink cow’s blood or jump off a cliff? Or dastardly like travelling to Eretria to kill the Anura? He hoped it was something simple like spinning three times in a circle while reciting an ancient frog charm…

“—You must embark on a quest,” she continued, “To find three ingredients to use in a potion which you must drink—”

 _“Not cow’s blood, not cow’s blood…”_ he chanted in his head.

“An eye of newt, a twisted tarrowroot, and a feather from the phoenix.”

He knitted his brow, “Excuse my ignorance, but I’m sure that phoenixes don’t exist?”

“A Haruharu, another scarlet-coloured bird, will do in these modern times…”

Amphi’s shoulders fell and a small sigh left his lips, “That’s all? Is there a market or someplace I can purchase these items?”

“No, you must seek them yourself,”

“But I’ve never heard of a twisted tarrowroot and where am I to get an eye of newt? Wouldn’t the Haruharu swallow me whole if I dare lay a hand on its plumage?”

“It’s not supposed to be _easy_ , Minister. If it was, then the Anura’s power would be useless!”

That was a good point.

“And I _must_ do this alone? I can’t have a guide to show me around the forest?”

“Oh, no, you can have a companion. But it must be _you_ who collects the materials...Have you someone in mind?” 

“Sir Chara?”

Zaida nodded, “He’ll do fine.”

Amphi shuffled to the edge of his seat, ready to jump into action, “Do you know where I could find him?”

“Why, he lives right below me!” she grinned, “In the doghouse looking thing.”

Amphi leaned back in his seat, letting his body sink into the plush pillows. He could have leaped right out the door at that very moment, but he felt terrible about leaving Zaida right after she’d given him all the information he ever needed.

“Do you know what time it is?” he asked, calmly.

She stuck her tongue in the air a la Adhama and gave her best estimate.

 _“Later than I imagined,”_ he thought, _“Maybe I should stay the night; I don’t think she would mind. I’m quite tired with meet and greets today, and this quest is shaping up to be an all day affair. I’d rather not engage with predators after sundown…”_

“You’re always welcome here, Minister. You may stay as long as you desire,” she said, looking up from her handiwork for the first time in a while, “But knowing you, you’ll want to start your quest before the sun rises tomorrow!”

~~~~

Sir Chara tossed and turned in his bed of leaves and dirt. From his amphibian senses, he could feel like something— _someone_ —was watching him; waiting for him to awaken. He scrunched his face and burrowed his head into his pillow. If it was some snake wanting to have an early morning snack, let them. He had been ripping and running all yesterday and deserved an endless slumber for the next hundred nights.

_KNOCK KNOCK_

Sir Chara curled himself into a ball and smashed his pillow over top of his ears.

_KNOCK KNOCK_

“UGH!” He boomed, tossing the thing at the wall and sitting erect, “Who is it!?”

“It’s Amphidamas!” sung a jolly voice from outside.

“Amphi—? My gosh, man, don’t you know what time it is!?”

Amphi stuck out his tongue to check, “Indeed I do! I need to speak with you!”

“You already are! Come back later!” Chara groaned and fell back onto his mattress, “Chalsidians, I tell you…they never fail,” he muttered to himself.

“How long shall I wait?” he replied.

“Two hours!”

“Fine, then,” Amphi said and climbed back up to Zaida’s loft.

~~~~

Exactly two hours on the dot Amphi beat on Sir Chara’s door again.

“WHO IS IT!?” Chara yelled, his eyes cracking open.

“It’s Amphidamas! You told me to return in two hours time!”

The distinguished frog uttered vulgarities to himself but slid out of bed all the same, “FINE! I will be there in a moment!” He slipped his feet into his slippers, tied his robe around him, and shuffled over to the door, letting Amphi step through, “What is it!?”

“Good morrow!” the Minister chirped.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chara said through a yawn, “What are you here for? (he sized up the frog standing before him) Oh? I like your new form; it suits you.”

The peppy frog’s eyes nearly rolled out his socket,“You think so? Well, I’d like to request a refund!”


	8. Chapter 8

“All in one day?” Sir Chara huffed, “You know, I’ve just come back from a quest of my own this morning? I travelled all the way to Noreia to consume a species of cricket that can only be found in those forests. A delightful thing it was—and I’m positively full—but now I wake up this VERY SAME morning to news that I’m being tasked to go on ANOTHER quest,”

“With your help it shouldn’t take long,” Amphidamas assured, “Especially if we only need to stay within the confines of _this_ forest.”

“Hmph,” Chara munched on his leftover Noreian delicacies, “Mm, want the rest?” he said, holding out the remaining bottom half. Amphi held up his hand to decline and Chara stuffed the rest away with the others, “Fine, fine. I _should_ be ever flattered that you chose _me_ of all frogs to accompany you. Now then, when are you planning the embarkation?”

“Now?”

“NOW!?” Chara let out a huge, vacuum-like yawn and clicked his tongue, “Oh, alright. But on one condition.”

“Yes?”

“We go where _I_ say we go and you’ll follow _my_ direction, alright? No dilly dallying.”

“Trust me, I’m at my wits end when it comes to dilly dallying.”

“Good! Let me get ready, then TALLY-HO!”

~~~~

They decided to go in the order of which Zaida mentioned, meaning the eye of newt was the first objective. Sir Chara, admittedly, did not have any acquaintances who were newts and if he did he wasn’t sure he could convince the lot to poke out their own eyes for the sake of a stranger. Instead, they thought about the common predators of the newts and decided that would be the quicker, albeit more dangerous, way to go about this.

“Snakes,” Amphi suggested, “Where can we find a group of snakes?”

“There’s an infamous lair of snakes further into the forest by the Big Rock, but, uh, Amphi...I know you’re new to this lifestyle but…”

Amphi looked down at his amphibious body, “Right...gosh,” he sighed, ”How are we supposed to do this?”

“I’ve never tried to charm a snake but we better hope it works today.”

The two traipsed into the depths of the wood, making sure their footsteps were light and that they only spoke in hushed tones. The Big Rock was only a few feet away from where Amphi had seen the slug and the cricket the previous day—a realisation that made his stomach churn.

“Shh, get back,” Sir Chara whispered as they approached the landmark. Amphi jumped behind his companion and gazed over his shoulder, “I’ll make the first move, right?”

Sir Chara picked up a small rock beside his feet and lunged it at the bigger rock. Amphi raised his brow but said nothing. A few moments later Chara repeated the motion, and a yellow snake came slithering out,

“Who goessss there?” it hissed, lifting its head and scouting the area, “Sssshow yourself!”

The Minister nipped at his fingers as his companion stepped into view of the snake, his hands raised, “Hello, my good snake!” he declared with nary a hint of warbling in his voice, “How are you this fine morn?”

“Frog! Why do you show yourself around these partsss? Are you a fool or sssuicidal?”

“Neither! I have come for a favour!”

“Yesss, I will eat you, if that is your quesstion. You will be a sssnack before my usual morning meal,”

“Before you do that,” Chara gulped, taking a step back, “Listen to my plea first?”

The snake slithered forward to make up for the lost space, “Plea?! And why ssshould I?”

“Because...uh,”

Amphi covered his face with his hand and slid down the tree trunk.

“Contain your breathing, Amphi. There’s no need to fret. All will be fine…” he repeated to himself.

“Because it will be worth your while!” Chara sputtered.

The snake lowered its head down to the ground, “Isss that the best you can come up with, frog?”

“At the moment, yes, because I am rather afraid of you,”

The snake chortled, “Okay. I will listen. But if it turns out _not_ to be worth my while—”

“I understand complete—”

“AAAGH!”

Amphidamas screamed and sprinted for Sir Chara, knocking him flat, face down, onto the leaves.

“What the deuce?!” the unsuspecting frog yelped.

Amphi, too busy panting and shuddering in his loafers, could only speak in broken syllables as another snake burst into laughter from behind the tree.

“Awwww, Scazi, you’ve ssscared the poor thing! Just when we were getting ready to be good friends,” the first snake said.

“Ssssorry, Siesha, I couldn’t help it,”

“Don’t apologisssee to me, apologissse to _him_ ,”

Scazi slithered to Amphi and tapped him on his back with his nose. Amphi quivered and whimpered as his fingers dug into Chara’s arm, “P—please, don’t…” he stuttered.

“Hey, man, uhh...ssorry. I didn’t mean to ssscare you...Well I did but…”

“Go inside, Scazi!” Siesha commanded and the other snake scampered away without another word, “Sssorry,”

Sir Chara lifted himself up, knocking his friend over onto his back. He brushed off his front and stood erect in front of the remaining snake as though the incident didn’t frighten him in the slightest, “It’s quite alright, isn’t it Amphidamas?”

Amphi sat on his legs then rose slowly to his feet. His heart pounded in his ears with such a fury that he could just barely make out the words spoken to him, “Y—yes, quite alright.”

Chara flashed a courtesy smile, “We were wondering if you had an eye of newt stashed away.”

“An eye of newt?” Siesha repeated, “Why?”

“For a special drink we’re preparing,”

“And if I give one to you will you allow me a sip?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?” Chara lied.

“Hmm, I don’t trust you lot,”

“Then why bother sending Szabo, or whatever his name was, away!? Why not just let him eat me!?” Amphi interjected.

“SCAZI!” The snake erupted.

“Yes’m?” Scazi mumbled, reappearing behind the other.

“Not you! Go back!”

“Is there sssomeone else named Scazi?” Scazi inquired.

Siesha groaned and hissed venomous words to Scazi. The two frogs were glad they couldn’t understand a single syllable. When it was just the three of them again, she responded to Amphidamas’ comment, “I may not instinctively _trust_ your kind, but it doesn’t mean I want to partake in ssssilly playground pranksss. Who are you anyway?”

The two frogs introduced themselves.

“Amphidamasss? You’re not a true frog, aren’t you?”

“What makes you say that? Of course I am; look at me!”

“Your name doesn’t end with the ssssame vowel as the other frogsss. Ssso I ask again: _who are you_?”

“I assure you that I am a full-blooded frog,” Amphi stepping forward with all of the charisma and poise as his government title had offered him, “You see, there is another one of us with the name ‘Amphidama’ but because we both couldn’t have the same name—it would be too confusing—mine took on the plural form.”

The snake said nothing.

“You see? It all comes down to grammar,” the frog continued despite now feeling like he should shut up and return to his hiding spot behind the tree. Those snake eyes weren’t the most comforting objects he’d never looked upon!

“I ssee...sssounds fake but I’ll take it,”

Chara patted Amphi furtively on the back.

“Okay, sssso you want my eye of newt for a drink you’re preparing...fine. I will give it to you, but I want sssomething in return _first_.”

“Name your price,” Sir Chara answered.

“ _Rubia tinctorum_ ,” she said.

“And what is that?”

“Rose madder,” Amphi replied, “I’m guessing you want to make a dye?”

“Yessss, what an intelligent frog you are.”

Chara rolled his eyes and kicked the dirt in front of him, “A dye for what?”

“I want to decorate my living ssspace. I’m tired of ssstaring at grey rock wallsss and boring brown wood. My ssson wants to be an artist and I am allowing him to paint to his heart’ssss content, but I need the materialsss. I would forage them myssself but I’ve been busy lately.”

“Alright, so a couple of sprigs of rose madder root for your eye of newt? Sounds like an easy enough trade.”

“I know this is possibly a daft question, but how do you intend to harvest the dye from the root if you lack the proper appendages?” Amphi asked.

“What are you sssaying!?” Siesha hissed.

“I’m saying that I think I can give you your red dye pre-made.”

Siesha pursed her lips, “Oh really? Then do ssso, frog. Don’t messsss this up for yourssself,”

~~~~

“What has gone through that moonstruck head of yours?!” protested Sir Chara as the two frogs hopped back to objectively safer ground, “She said we needed to bring her a few roots. That was simple! And here you are boasting about how you can give her the dye pre-made, as if you forgot who you were speaking to! A _SNAKE!_ Why force yourself—meaning _US—_ to go through unnecessary extra effort!?”

“Just because she’s a snake doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be able to decorate her house, Sir Chara. What makes you so sure, after we handed her the madder roots, she wouldn’t have sought us out once she realised that you need to _prepare_ the dye? Simply smearing the plant on the wall won’t do a thing but soil it!”

“Fine!” he capitulated, “It’s your quest. You’ll prepare it for her, then?”

“No…” Amphi said, his mind flashing back to a girl who knew a thing or two about makeup, “I have my sources…”

~~~~

Khadra flung open the front door and squealed as she lunged onto Amphi, "I knew you'd come back!" She said, embracing him in a bear hug, "You decided to stay a frog, have ya?! You couldn't get enough of me!"

Sir Chara raised his brow in intrigue.

"This is my best friend, here," she continued, directing her attention to Chara, "Have you seen him dance?! My gosh can he cut a rug!"

"Color me surprised; I had no idea you were a _dancer,_ Minister!"

Her voice dropped to a whisper, "Dare I say he's better than me," she winked.

"I'm not here to dance, Khadra. I...need your help!" he gasped as the embrace tightened, reminding him of the horrid fright he wanted to forget. He tapped Khadra on the arm.

She backed away with a rosy, abashed expression across her face, "Oops sorry."

Still standing in the doorway, Amphi described their reason for being there and requested her assistance. Khadra showed them in and rested herself against the wall with her arms folded in a casual way, "Lipstick, huh? _My_ lipstick?"

"That's your idea, Amphi? Lipstick? (Chara laughed breathily through his nose)...Dare I say that's actually brilliant..."

"It is! I'll go take a look in my drawers. I would like to say 'I must warn you: I have a toonnn to go through' but I have everything colour _and_ type sorted! Shouldn’t take more than a minute!" She chirped and skipped off to her parlor.

About five minutes later she returned with two shades of red lipstick, "Have them both," she smiled, "I haven't worn them in years."

Amphi took the makeup and twirled them in his fingers before dropping them into the bandolier they had picked up at Zaida's home on the way to their current location. It had the power of shrinking anything you put into it, even the biggest codfish, and once taken out it would return to its natural size. How she obtained such a bag was a mystery, but Amphi’s mind was already set on finding the answers to other questions at that moment. "Thanks very much," he smiled, "I know it's only been a day, but I still haven't forgot our promise."

She scrunched up her shoulders and pursed her lips coquettishly, "Yeah, I know you won't. You’re not the type."


	9. Chapter 9

The second task on the list was to obtain a twisted tarrowroot. After the sweeping success and ease of the first task, Amphidamas and Sir Chara felt like skipping and frolicking through the rest of the day.

The former wasn’t sure what a ‘twisted tarrowroot’ was, but Chara—having spent his entire life within the trees—knew of a bunch who hoarded them like no tomorrow: the squirrels.

Unlike the snakes, the squirrels were a cordial bunch to the frogs and other amphibians. They often went foraging together and would inform one another about any fruity or meaty delicacies they found on their own scavenging. The difficult thing about them, though, was that they were rather flighty and easily distracted. If you could manage to flag one down in the midst of their scampering, the conversation would be fifty percent “Hellooo? Squirrelly??” as you tried to direct their attention away from any strewn nuts or half-eaten strawberries.

But it was all in good fun. The two animals thought it foolish to squander their alliance for something so trivial, especially when any alliance could be a profitable one when it came to the animal kingdom.

But on the topic of the twisted tarrowroot (not to be confused with the linear tarrowroot), if there was to be any extinction of vegetable in the forest it was to be that. The culprit? The throngs of squirrel families who tore roots from the earth like it was their job; carrying wheelbarrows-worth of them home to store away for the winter. They described the taste of being like a cooked sweet potato: soft, stringy, and just sweet enough that it wasn’t overpowering. The frogs had no interest in produce, but would occasionally bring their furry friends tarrowroot if they found any while on the hunt for their own indulgences.

“The squirrel I’m most familiar with is Mortimer,” Chara said, as the two chaps rested in front of Khadra’s rock-gate, “A good lad, he. His den is somewhere around here, in the fork of a maple tree, if I remember correctly,”

Amphi sat on one of the smooth stones, “Is there a tree big enough to fit all three of us?” 

“I’ve never been in a den for that reason. We’ll just have to get him to come down to our level, which he will.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“If you have food, _any_ squirrel will want to make your acquaintance.”

Amphi shrugged. There was no denying that point. He remembered a particular occasion at work when he sat down to eat outside. The sun was shining bright overhead, warming the earth just enough that it felt like you were wrapped in the snuggest blanket. To waste such beautiful weather sitting indoors felt like a folly, so he situated himself in the middle of the lawn, crossed his legs, and began to unwrap his pita wrap.

About two bites in a squirrel appeared on the scene. It’s black, beady eyes staring up at the man and its nose and whiskers twitching in eagerness. Amphi smiled at it for reasons he didn’t understand and continued with his meal as though the furry creature didn’t exist.

Another squirrel appeared and chittered to the other. The first squirrel chittered back. And soon a group of squirrels appeared; their pairs of eyes boring into the meal that wasn’t meant for them. Amphi tore off a piece of bread and chucked it away. The squirrels chased after it, but like dogs playing fetch, once one had claimed victory in retrieving the bread they all came running back for more. He remembered seeing this very scene in a film once: an innocent man being eaten to the core by a horde of hungry, furry mammals. There was no way that was going to be him! Sorry sun, but maybe another day.

~~~~

The Minister and the nobleman hopped up to a tree with a fork in the middle of its trunk where a medium-sized cavern was. On the way there, they stopped by a strawberry bush and picked a handful to lure Mortimer from his lair.

“Mort!” Sir Chara called out, “Oh Mort! Are you in there!?”

“Who goes there?” responded a playful, middle-aged voice from inside.

“It’s Char! And I’ve brought a friend!”

“How nice!” the voice responded, but Mortimer still did not show himself.

“And we’ve brought some freshly picked strawberries!” Amphi added, heeding the words of Chara and the memory of his own experience.

Mortimer shrieked, “Strawberries!?” and dashed out from his den, his tiny hands and feet scurrying down the length of the tree trunk and down the path until he reached his two visitors, “Why didn’t you _start_ with that!? Hand ‘em over!”

Amphi dug into his bandolier and placed the handful (it was a mighty small handful) of berries into the outstretched palms of Mortimer, who chittered with glee and sunk his teeth into one right then and there.

“Don’t eat them too quickly,” Amphi warned, hoping the squirrel wouldn’t choke on his own enthusiasm.

“MmmHmm!” Mortimer flung the green, floral hull into the dirt and held the rest of the fruit close to his person as though afraid Amphi would steal them back, “Thank you both, but I’m afraid I haven’t any insects or bugs to return the favour with.”

“No need. We’re here for something different,” Chara answered, “A single twisted tarrowroot. Would you happen to have any laying around?”

“I have enough to keep me fed throughout the winter! It’s not just bears who are proactive, y’know,”

“May we have one? _Just_ one,” the Minister clarified, “It’s very important—”

“I remember the first time I tried one of those roots...mhhhMmmm! I ate ten in one sitting. I was covered from head to toe in its orangey flesh and all the other squirrels wanted to lick me clean! Ha! I didn’t let them! ‘I can clean myself, thank you!’ I said and scurried off to my den. But when I made myself comfortable, I noticed that all the root flesh had fallen off me in my haste and the other animals were feasting on it below! Drat! But it was all for the best because I had a bit of a tummy ache afterwards from the stuff I did eat,” he frowned.

Sir Chara spoke up, “Mort?”

“Yes, Char?”

“May we have one of your twisted tarrowroot?”

“Oh of course, sure sure. Oh, I’m sorry, did your friend just ask that? (Amphi nodded) My mind is always whizzing and whirring, full of ideas, nostalgia, and unfinished plans. Just the other day I went to grab a nut from my pantry but I saw a speck of dirt on my desk and spent the whole day cleaning. I don’t believe I ever did eat that nut that day…” Mortimer smacked the side of his head, dropping his berries in the dirt, “Goodness gracious I’m sorry again. The twisted tarrowroot, right? I’ll give you one—”

“Thank you,” Amphi said with a sigh.

“ _After_ you provide me with a few more of these delicious, juicy strawberries!” Mortimer grinned from ear to ear then hunkered himself down, his eyes darting furtively from left to right, “Those roots are a hot commodity. It’s like asking me to freely give you a gem that I’ve toiled over in the mines for. I love you, Chara, but let’s be realistic!”

Amphi scratched the back of his head, _“I feel like this is less of a quest and more about running errands for animals who see me as an opportune and complementary footman in livery. Should I be thankful that I don’t need to slay dragons and sneak into closely guarded castles? At the present moment I think that would be a lot more intriguing…”_ he thought as Chara tried to reason with Mortimer over the tarrowroot.

“No good! No berrie;, no root! Bye bye!” the squirrel stuffed another strawberry in his chubby cheeks and gathered up the rest before scampering back up to his den.

Chara sighed, “There’s an awful lot of back and forth in this so-called quest, isn’t there?”

“I’ll say,” Amphi said with a twisted smile, “What would you say if we had to...oh, I don’t know...rescue Anora from a castle tower guarded by a ferocious dragon instead?”

~~~~

So back they went to the place they had only just come from a few minutes before: the strawberry 'pasture' which was in actuality just a clumping of strawberry bushes in a nondescript part of the woods.

While gathering the fruit, they spotted a worm with a wicker basket carrying on in much the same way.

"Finally, a meal for our troubles," Sir Chara said under his breath. But Amphidamas thought back to the dinner he had with Adhama and Wolsey...

_"Me wife does, aye. Every mornin’ she goes out with her lil’ basket and collects the fresh fall"_

It was more like the beginning of afternoon now, but all the same!

"I don't think so, Chara," Amphi replied, holding an arm out in front of the frog to stop him, "I might know this worm.”

"You're more of a vegetarian than I thought..." the other said, furrowing his brow.

"Excuse me?" Amphi called out to the busy worm.

"Yes?" A gentle voice replied after dropping a leaf in her basket.

"Are you married to Wolsey the sailor, by chance?"

"Aye, I am..." her eyes widened and her face flushed with red, "Has summat 'appened to my Wolsey?"

"No he's perfectly fine. I had dinner with him the other night, is all, and he spoke very highly of you.”

"Did he now?" Her face continued to flush, which ultimately made her entire body change colour, "I love 'im with all of my heart. Are you that Amphi fellow? He was talkin' about you, too, when he came home."

"Good things I hope?"

"Aye," she chuckled and plucked off another strawberry leaf to stash with the others. Amphi took the liberty in pulling off the fruit that was now hanging low to the dirt and placing it in his sack, "Is there summat you wanted, dear?"

"No, I just wanted to say hello."

"Oh...hello!" She beamed

“Well...good afternoon…!”

“Afternoon!”

He waved goodbye as he went back to his friend.

"You can't eat her, Chara, sorry. You'll have to make do with some leaves or—" he dug out the strawberry he'd just picked and took a bite, tossing away the calyx, "Gorge yourself on some of these fruits!"

The nobleman decided to ignore both that comment and the cries of his stomach. "We've got enough," he said, holding a berry up with the tip of his chin to keep it from slipping, "Let's go back."

The two of them sauntered back in the direction they came when Amphi heard a sudden rustle in the trees.

"It's nothing; only the wind," his companion remarked.

The rustle sounded again, but in two different directions and in tandem with discordant, giddy chirps.

"That...that isn't wind, Chara."

Chara darted his eyes about as they continued walking, "Quite right...I sense a rat."

"We're not filthy rats!" The two voices squealed.

Sir Chara dropped his pile of fruit and stood _en garde_ like Percy Blakeney ready to burst the buttons off of Chauvelin's waistcoat, "Hark! Show yourselves, vermin!"

Twin squirrels skittered from the trees, appearing before Chara and Amphi on their hind legs, "Give us your berries!" They commanded.

The Minister rolled his eyes, "I wasn't aware the forest had highwaymen?"

"Give us the berries!"

"And what if we don't?"

The squirrels looked askance at one another, "Then we'll steal them!" One responded.

Chara exploded into laughter but Amphi could only contort his lips into a peevish frown, "There are plenty of fruit in the bushes down south; more than you two could ever hope to carry at one time. Why don't you leave us be so we can go on our way?"

" _Way?_ No way!" The other chimed, "If you don't wanna give us the goods then so be it."

"Good!"

" _Good!_ " The squirrels mocked.

"What a waste of time," Chara muttered as he picked up the strawberries once again. But before he could finish, a horde of bushy-tailed creatures scurried from the unknown, pouncing on him before he had a chance to identify where they were coming from. "Get off you foul fiends!" He yelled, picking up a stick and swinging it like a flyswatter, "You dastardly urchins!"

Amphidamas, who had seen them coming, had just enough time to grab a stick of his own. He didn't know how to use it, but heck, it seemed like Chara didn't either. "No!" He exclaimed. A squirrel had broken through the portcullis and was chowing down on one of the crown jewels!! "Please stop, all of you!"

"Yes, stop it!" Another voice of squirrel descent interjected, "Put that down! How dare you, Barnabas! And you too Bartholomew!"

The two twins sat up, their mouths and paws covered in pink, sticky saccharine. The others, who weren't so lucky, sulked in suspended animation.

"Mort!" Chara grunted, tossing the stick aside, "How good to see you."

"I heard commotion, and this time it wasn't from my being clumsy while talking to myself. Now what’s the meaning of all this!?"

The rebel squirrels chittered to themselves, but none had the audacity to admit that they had attempted to loot two frogs for fruit that they could’ve easily acquired five steps down the path.

"We were just on our way to see you," Amphi grimaced forlornly, "Then this happened. We're sorry."

Chara stomped his foot on the dirt and wagged his finger in the air, "I'm not! These darn kids! Where is the home training?!"

"I'll get to speaking with their folks...eventually." Mortimer said _en sotto_ , "Now go on home, all of you! And I'll let Mrs. Pecanti know to give you all a stern talking to as well! No recess for a week!"

The squirrels all groaned in unison. "Oh, what the—!"

"Hush your mouth, Titus! Now, Char, Amph?" He beckoned then over with a nod. All the while he watched the children with hawk eyes as his two friends bundled up the remaining berries and made themselves scarce.

~~~~

Back at the tree, Mortimer squealed with delight when the two frogs arrived at his doorstep again. They had only brought a few additional berries compared to before, but Mortimer was grateful for the time they had spent on him all the same.

"I don't know what's gotten into these kids," he sighed, "Must be something in the water."

"Sounds like they need—" Amphi stopped himself. He was going to suggest a nice cup of sugarplum draught, but that would only make them attack the Chalsidian chocolatiers and end up sprawled across the countertops and in the mixing bowls after they had sufficiently engorged themselves. An infestation of drowsy, chocolate-drunken squirrels in sweets shops wasn't an article he wanted to read in the dailies, "Nevermind."

"Yes, nevermind that nonsense!" Chara waved his hand, "Is this good enough for you, Mort?"

" _Mhmm_ , I'm a simple squirrel. And those fruit look _miiiighty_ good...um...What was it you wanted again?"

"The _tarrowroot_."

"Oh right!" He laughed, "Let me just take those…(he gathered up as many berries as he could) and I'll be back in a jiff!"

After a miraculous minute, Mortimer reappeared and presented them with a grey turnip looking thing with a green, leafy top.

Amphi's countenance beamed, "Thank you, Mortimer! You've been a great help!"

"Use it wisely!" The squirrel chirped, "If you request another I'll have to charge you extra!"


	10. Chapter 10

The third and final item needed for the potion was a feather from a phoenix (or a Haruharu, as Zaida deemed appropriate).

This was to be a difficult one compared to the others as (1) Sir Chara knew of no Haruharu personally and thus couldn't widdle his way into their stuff purely on the basis of 'we talked once many moons ago, don't you remember?' and (2) birds, unlike snakes and many squirrels, spend the majority of their time in the canopy of trees or airborne. Unfortunately, Chara still denied that he ever flew high above the clouds and reached the cosmos, meaning they couldn't make the most of his materialisation trick.

Maybe if they closed their eyes...

The Minister and Chara decided to test their luck by situating themselves on a tree branch in hopes that a bird would come tweeting by and perch beside them. In the meantime, they shot the breeze and Chara showed off his balancing ability by falling backwards so he was suspended by the grip of his toes.

Amphi squirmed, "Come back up, that's enough now!" He said with a grimace.

"Why? Because you can't do it?" Chara jibed, dropping his arms and letting them hang free in the wind.

"I'd rather _not_ try! That's a long drop you know!"

"I've never fallen!" Chara asserted, "But if I did, I would know how to _land."_

A few minutes later, a horde of bright red birds circled overhead like vultures. Without so much as a squawk or a shuffling of tree leaves, one broke from the pack and soared down...

down...

Like an arrow that moves in silence until BULLSEYE! The bird plucked up its target and dragged it through the air, leaving the prey to contemplate their final moments with clenched eyes and even tighter muscles. What would be the cause of death this time? Being eviscerated by the sharp talons and beak of a brooding mother? Impaled by a broken, serrated tree trunk after falling two hundred feet? Swallowed whole and left to burn in a stomach full of acid?

The Haruharu flapped past its flock and pitched itself in a nest some inordinate amount of trees away, where it dropped the poor creature who was subjected to the non-consensual journey in a rather uncomfortable cabin.

"SQUAWK!" The bird yelped in a raspy voice.

A chorus of high-pitched yelps answered in return from the other birds who had either not yet grown in their first summer feathers or were just molting their first spring plumage (the Haruharu young take two years to be weaned off their mother's feedings). They all opened their soft mouths to the sky and continued their cacophony of chirps.

Except one.

Amphi could only look up at the magnificent, scarlet bird with eyes the size of dinner plates and his mouth parted. His hands gripped the twigs that composed the nest. His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning out the incessant squeaking. But all he could do was gaze. Gaze up at the predator standing above him. Gaze up at the one who would return him to his maker.

For once in his life, his head was empty—devoid of thought. The only thing that mattered was survival and yet here he was some indeterminate amount of feet up in the air, in a nest with squealing chicks and their mother, with no way to get down and no Chara to hold on to.

A stray thought passed in his head about his two cats Mitzi and Theropontigonus, his rabbits, and his own birds that he’d protect with his life...but mainly Mitz and Ponti.

 _"If I had the ability to conjure them up right here, my problems would be solved,"_ he thought. But then he blinked and ripped the thought to shreds, scattering them over the edge of the nest. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts were always better. _"If this is truly the end, who will feed Cleïo and Felix? Who will let Mr and Mrs Cockatiel out from their cage? Who will be the one to pound on my door to conduct a welfare check while being unaware of the bleak truth? Who will lead the search party and ultimately pronounce it a bust? How will they report my incident in the news? In what context will my name be spoken? How will my legacy continue to help Chalsidians everywhere?..."_

His mind continued to torment him with these questions until the discordant choking sound of the bird roused him from his rumination. The choking continued...and then stopped.

The bird placed a nibble of her regurgitated food into the mouths of each of her eager children, but when she reached Amphidamas she closed her lips and pecked at him with the smooth top side of her beak.

 _"What is she doing?_ " Amphi tried to restrain his breathing and his urge to gulp, _"Does she seriously think I'm one of her young?"_

He remained still until the bird tried to PRY his mouth open with her beak. He set his lips into a hard, impenetrable line, shut his eyes, and hoped that she wouldn't accidentally pluck his eyes out in the process.

 _"I DON'T WANT YOUR FOOD!"_ He screamed to himself, _"LEAVE ME BE!"_

Then he got to thinking more practically...

 _"Maybe I can use my bandolier pouch as a faux mouth? Yes, that's a decent idea. If this all turns out terribly, at least I know I tried some method of saving myself,"_ he reached to the side and opened the flap of his bag, _"Now I wait for the right—a-ha!"_ When the bird's dagger was an inch away, he slapped the open bag in front of his face. When she went back to 'pry his mouth open' she was thoroughly fooled!

 _"You've done it again, Minister,"_ he smirked.

The bird, satisfied that her child was finally complying, choked up more of her erstwhile meal and spewed it into the bag. It smelled of rotting fish and insect stew and looked like a hodgepodge of colours and textures—as if an artist's palette met a sculptor's pottery wheel...

And a makeup counter...

And a vegetable garden...

Amphi slumped back in the nest and grimaced, "So much for a nice keepsake..."

~~~~

Back in some other part of the woods, Chara was picking himself off the forest floor (he _hadn't_ fallen, mind you) and muttering to himself.

"He's gone! He's gone I say! The Minister! I didn't even see what happened but he's gone! Dead? Or alive but barely so? What do I do? What do I do...?!"

He placed a finger in his mouth to simulate biting his nails but spit out the digit before he could go far, "Ugh! How _do_ people do that! No, I must think of a way to bring him back…!"

~~~~

Back in the Haruharu's nest, Amphi was more or less reminiscent of a vacationer lazing about in a jacuzzi. The birds had had ample time to consume him if he wanted. The baby birds went back to sleep right after being fed, the juveniles flew the coop, and the mother was keeping a closer watch on outside affairs than anything Amphi was doing. Plus, being frightened all the time was tiring and he needed all the strength he could muster for his eventual escape.

 _"If I had the gall, I'd pluck her feather and be done with it—jump out the nest and hope for the best,"_ he mused, _"But considering feathers are the equivalent of hair or fur if she was any other species, that would be akin to snipping someone's braid without them looking. No, I mustn't do that,"_ he furrowed his brow, _"Egads, what a fool I am!_ Minister of Foreign Affairs _and I'm acting like a business school freshman! Whether it's a Chalsidian, an Eretrian, or a Haruharu, it's my job to conduct business and enforce civility with outside cultures! Oh, where has my mind been these past two days?!"_

He cleared his throat and the bird swivelled her head to the opposite side.

 _"Over here!"_ He thought, and cleared his throat again.

She tilted her head downwards and squawked before opening her glistening red wings, flapping them a few times, and folding them in again.

_"This won't do,"_

"Madam Bird?" Amphi said in his standard, diplomatic voice that he instinctively donned when answering any open channel or speaking to anyone he wasn't familiar with, "Madam Bird?"

She whipped her head to the direction of the sound and shrieked, "WHO ARE YOU?!" Her voice boomed (but yet her children seemed unfazed—with shut eyes, they only nestled in tighter with one another), "WHY ARE YOU IN MY NEST?! I SHOULD EAT YOU RIGHT NOW!"

" _You_ brought me in here. But it's alright, we all make mistakes sometimes. You can drop— _set_ —me down on the ground and we can pretend this never happened,"

"I BROUGHT YOU? WHY WOULD I BRING A FROG? A LIVE FROG?"

Her voice pierced his ears like sharp missiles, but he forced himself to not cringe with every word she uttered, "Madam, would you be so kind to lower your voice? We're only a foot away from one another...As I said, it was most likely an innocent mistake. The 'why' doesn't matter so much as the 'how', as in 'how can we rectify this incident'?"

"I don't want to _rectify_. I want to eat you!"

"I don't taste very good!"

"How would you know?!"

Her beak was dangerously close to Amphi's face; the warm breath from her nostrils hitting his dewy skin. But he did not waver from his position. He remained sitting—lounging—in his spot, his eyes staring directly into hers.

"I've been sitting here this whole time and not once did I ever bother you nor your young. And my reward for good behaviour is a ticket to swim in your private pool?"

"Frogs are frogs and frogs are food. Doesn't matter what you were doing, trespasser. Luckily I'm not hungry, and my babes have already been fed...but your time is limited as far as I'm concerned."

"So be it," he said with a shrug, "I await the end with open arms."

Just then there was a squawk from afar and another vermillion bird swooped down on an adjacent branch. The two birds talked with another in their native vernacular until the new addition shot itself up and away.

Sensing that the wife would want to go with her husband, Amphi slowly took to his feet. And when she turned to position herself for take-off...he leaped onto her back like a flying squirrel!

 _"By Jove...!"_ He exclaimed, holding onto the feathered reigns.

"Who needs dragons! Or horses for that matter!"

The two raptors reunited in flight and the husband, after making eye contact with the weird multicoloured thing on his spouse’s back, squawked to bring it to her attention.

"It must be that frog!" She hissed.

Her body twisted, spun, and dived to rid herself of Amphi but it was no good. The record for bull riding would be his at this rate! Where were the officials!? He grasped at the reigns until his hands turned white...and his face. _“Just a little more…!”_

"I got it!" The other bird yelled, swooping into her lane. Amphi laid himself closer to her body and prepared for a bit of sudden turbulence but instead he whacked her back, sending him tumbling down through the clouds, trees, and everything in between. When...

SMACK!

He slammed backwards into a pile of leaves.

Amphi exhaled the biggest sigh and wiped his brow. But before he could be disheartened about his lack of feather, he looked beside him and saw...a feather! A matte, red feather in its complete beauty.

"Thank you for doing business with us," he grinned, sticking the feather in his robe, ”Call me macaroni!”

~~~~

Chara scrambled off the grass and exhaled the biggest sigh of relief after seeing the silhouette of his companion in the distance.

"Where were you!? What happened?! I was worried!" He exclaimed, his hands gesticulating wildly.

"Worried? _You_ were worried? Sir Chara of all frogs, the one who told me 'go ahead and pop a hole in the one thing keeping me alive as I float endlessly through space'? The one who would _never_ sit idly when there was a potential solution to a problem? Colour me shocked!"

"What _could_ I do when a bird sweeps my friend away to who knows where? _Fly_?" Chara said indignantly.

A Cheshire grin spread along the Minister's face as he slipped the feather out from his robe and proffered it between two fingers, "I did!"


	11. Chapter 11

“Done already?!” Zaida gasped, dropping her knitting in her lap with sheer bewilderment, “Did you obtain the items...by _dubious means_ , if I may ask?” she said with a furtive (but playful) voice.

“Never!” Sir Chara spat, “We got them all fair and square!”

“Last night I got to thinking about this adventure,” Amphidamas answered, “If I didn’t know you or Sir Chara or anyone else...I don’t know how I would’ve accomplished any of this.”

“What was it you said about teamwork, Minister?” Zaida winked, “Now, show me what you got, come on.”

Amphi unbuttoned his bandolier and spread the contents onto her coffee table. Luckily, he had taken the liberty of scrubbing and cleansing the entire bag and the items within it before he arrived at Zaida’s treehouse. Wolsey’s wife would have been appalled by the number of leaves he wasted, but that bird vomit was potent stuff!

“Hmm,” hummed Zaida, “I see the eye of newt, the _twisted_ tarrowroot, and the scarlet feather...wonderful job you two! I never doubted for a second you wouldn’t be able to obtain them.”

“Thank you, Zaida,” Amphi smiled, “What is the next step, then?”

“Now we put them all into a cauldron (I refreshed my memory on the folklore while you were out) full of river water, chant the spell, and then you take a gulp of the liquid.”

“The _aqua vitae_...”

“As the de facto town crier, I must ask you, Minister, if you wish this to be a public or private spectacle?” Chara said solemnly.

Amphi wriggled his lips. He had never thought about whether or not he wanted the other frogs to witness his metamorphosis—he was only sure that he did not want any Chalsidians privy to it.

"Let's make it an event!" he blurted, then slapped a hand over his mouth.

_"Why did I say that?"_ He thought, _"I didn't have time to weigh the pros and cons of both before I spoke! What if I—"_

Zaida clapped her hands, "Yes! Let's! It would be a great way to introduce the youth to the ancient tales and traditions!"

Amphi lifted his brow, "Hm, I never considered that."

"Good! I'll start preparing my work while you two prepare yours?" Chara said, standing up and making his way to the door, "Two events in the span of two weeks. What a schedule!"

Once he had made himself scarce, Amphi pulled the tiny cauldron from Zaida's pantry shelf and threw the magical items inside while she grabbed her ladle, cup, and grimoire.

"Zaida? How is it that you have these materials already readily available? In that case, I couldn't have been the first one to come to you with the same problem?"

Zaida's eyes shifted left and right, "Mmm weeeell...let's not talk about that, shall we?"

"Whyever not?"

"It's complicated."

"How so?"

"You are the first person who I've ever conducted this spell on, that is a fact and that's all I shall say."

With their tools in hand, they sauntered down the tree, through the woods, and to the famous meeting spot.

"Are you sure you want to continue with this?" Zaida asked, "Or is that a daft question?"

"I'm sure, Zaida. As pleasant as you all are, this is not my home—my habitat. I should be out there with my own people."

"As you wish.

_"Was that a routine question or a hint that I should take note of?"_ Amphi said to himself, _"The words were innocent, but the tone of her voice sounded as though she wanted me to say 'no'? Or maybe I'm reading into this too much, as I have a tendency to do. Still, a concerning thought..."_

Sir Chara hopped onto the log podium, “Ready to go?” he asked to the two others who were standing there.

“Oh...we can’t get everything ready until everyone has arrived?” asked Amphi.

“You said you wanted to make it an event. Think of a magic show, what magician would already put their assistant into the box before the show has started? It would completely ruin the suspense.”

“Fine, where should I stand?”

“Where you are is fine. You will sit pretty the entire time and I’ll assist Zaida with the filling and mixing of the cauldron materials. Try and entertain the guests.”

“Entertain? Rupan-taran did no such thing so why should I!”

“She entertained with a story; you were there! Do something similar.”

Amphi scrunched up his face. Maybe he should’ve made this a private affair. No one ever said this was going to be akin to a carnival or a game show and he certainly had no interest in playing the part of a court jester. What was the most they could do? Boo him? And why should he care if the audience booed anyway? What would happen? The log would disappear under him and turn into a dunk tank? He’d be forcibly ejected from the Chalsidian atmosphere? (Yawn, been there; done that).

Sir Chara did his signature booming croak and, just as before, all of the frogs emerged from their homes and hideyholes, gusts of wind blew the trees, and the birds soared up to the heavens. When the opening theme ceased, Chara bellowed out to the citizens,

“You all may be wondering why I’ve gathered you here today. What is typically a once-a-month affair has turned into _two_ gatherings in the course of thirteen moons. Who you see before you today is not Rupan-taran, our former guest, but another face who will be familiar to you all after the finale of our performance. Are you ready to meet them?”

The frogs cheered in unison.

“Alright, now let’s give a big warm, froggy welcome to our friend Minister Amphidamas!”

The frogs sat with their mouths agape. Not even the leaves bothered to make a sound. As Amphi took his rightful place on the log where Rupan-taran once stood, his eyes scanned the depths of the crowd who were subsequently doing the same to him. Pockets of the audience muttered to one another and others pointed and grimaced as they tried to make sense of it all.

“Hello,” he began, “Yes, it is I, the one and only Minister Amphidamas. The one you have met only a short time ago. You may be wondering how I got myself into this predicament, especially after what had happened to one of my own people, but I assure you that I was just as shocked as you all are today. You see, I have only found out—from the lovely Zaida, here—that the frog Rupan-taran stared into on Eretria was sacred. An icon by the name of Anora, who only arrives in times of great strife for the frog population. Long story short, my kissing her transferred the Anora’s spell to me; but I intend to break the chain right here and right now!”

The audience erupted into cheers and applause and Amphi bowed in the traditional Chalsidian way. How’s that for entertainment?

“With the help of Zaida and Sir Chara, we will conduct the ancient frog ritual which will return me to my former self right before your very eyes. Yes, I said right before your eyes!”

He gave a nod to Chara and he and Zaida carried the now emptied cauldron down to the shore.

“The first part of the ritual is to collect enough river water to fill your cauldron; as we are using water from the Winding River, this drink is sure to please my taste buds. For all of you out there who are chefs and cooks, this process might look familiar...The cauldron will be quite heavy, so make sure you have a trusted friend with you.”

The cauldron returned to the front of the stage and, one by one, Amphi picked up the ingredients, discussing each before dropping them into the water, “The first item we will need is an eye of newt. Yes, a real eye from a real newt, also known as a salamander’s orb. This particular eye was not harvested by me, but was given to me by a snake! (The crowd gasped). You may be wondering how I managed to do so and be alive to tell the tale, well, if it wasn’t for my friends Chara and…(he narrowed his eyes to search for the black-and-purple frog in the crowd) Khadra, I would not have been able to do so! So thank you both!”

Khadra blushed and burrowed her head in her shoulders, “Aww, don’t mention it,” she giggled.

“And, here, is the twisted tarrowroot! (He held it up for all to see) An ambrosia to the squirrels and the other vegetarian or omnivorous species, it is considered as prized as any gem! And finally, we have a singular feather of a Haruharu, a magnificent bird whose appearance and demeanour rivals the mythological phoenix. I will drop these items into the cauldron…”

He plopped them one by one into the bowl and they all sunk to the bottom, save for the feather which rested on top like a sunbather. The crowd hummed with displeasure as no explosion or puff of purple smoke rose from the solution.

“Calm down everyone!” Chara yelled, “We haven’t yet finished!”

“And now, I will allow Zaida to say her part.”

Zaida strolled up onto the log and waved majestically to her audience, “Hello, my extended family,” she said in a wavering, yet firm, voice, “To make this ordinary cauldron of mismatched items become a magical potion, I will utter a few ancient words from my grimoire. Please, everyone, remain quiet for if I make even a single mistake, our dear Minister will turn into a chicken. Or a paramecium. Or cease to exist entirely.”

Everyone heeded her warning, especially Amphi who held his breath in anticipation.

Zaida opened her book to a pre-established page and ran her fingers over the inscription. Her lips moved as she did so, but no words came out until she gave a confident huff and closed her eyes. The spell was a series of croaks done in various pitches, dynamics, and tempos. While she recited, her free hand circled over top of the cauldron. After a few calls, the items inside began to follow her motion until the water changed from a transparent clear to an opaque green. 

And then she collapsed.

The audience gasped and Amphi rushed over to help her to her feet.

“I am fine; I am simply an old woman,” she said, patting his arm, “But it is done! You must drink it now, Minister, before the power wears off.”

_“My final few moments of being in this body are before me. Once I drink this_ aqua vitae _, I will be forever a Chalsidian. Forever a humanoid.”_

Zaida grabbed a cup from her materials and stirred the concoction with her ladle, spooning in what she could until the cup was filled to the brim.

“I would like to thank the brilliant creatures I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to again over these past days: Chara, Zaida, Adhama, Wolsey and his lovely wife, Khadra, and Mortimer...You shall ever be in my heart.”

As Zaida handed him his cup, Amphi’s hands began to clam more than a frog’s naturally were supposed to. His throat felt tight and he didn’t know if he’d be able to drink the entire beverage let alone a single sip.

He looked down at the green liquid. With the strange combination of ingredients, how embarrassing would it be if he gagged on stage. Luckily there was more liquid in the pot but still!

The audience of frogs waited with bated breath, especially those Amphidamas had met. Adhama removed his hat, holding it close to his chest, and Wolsey bowed his head. Zaida lifted a hand as though to pat her friend’s shoulder, but shook her head and clasped her hands behind her back. Chara stood firm like a military cadet waiting for the next move. Khadra covered her face with her hands while those around her gave her words of encouragement.

For Amphi, there was nothing more to think and nothing more to say. He had done all he had wanted to do and all that he had needed. Those efforts all culminated into today. Right here and right now. He continued gazing into the cup whose contents were swirling with the help of his body rhythm.

There was nothing more to think and nothing more to say.

He placed the cup to his lips and tilted his head. The drink had a sweet, fruity taste despite not having any fruits in it, and he gulped the entire thing down in a matter of seconds. With a burp, he handed the cup back to Zaida.

_“What is supposed to happen?”_ he thought, _“How long must I wait until the changes—”_

His eyes rolled back and his legs began to numb and buckle from under him. Using the last of his apparent strength, he leaped from the log to stand on solid ground, but instead he fell into a kneeling position. His fingers gripped the damp earth. His muscles clenched and so did his eyes. While it wasn’t painful to shrink _into_ a frog, now he felt as though his limbs were on fire and about to burst. The audience stepped back as he disappeared under a cloud of damask silk fabric, but soon his arms and legs jolted out from underneath. His torso expanded to fill out the rest of the billowing outfit, and soon his head popped out from the top. He was still clenching his teeth and mewling to himself as the transformation continued, and when the final burning sensation evanesced he lifted a hand to his forehead, wiping himself of the sweat.

“It is done?” Zaida whispered.

Amphi ran his fingers down the length of his chest, his neck, his cheeks, until he reached his crown. The white, wispy hair he had grown to love had returned (albeit messier) and he sighed of relief. Everything seemed to be in their place, thank the G—s!

“I’m back!” he shouted, holding his arms out to the sky, “I’m back!”


	12. Chapter 12

Amphidamas sat at his dining room table munching on bread and butter and perusing through the ‘Arts & Entertainment’ section of the local newspaper. After the strange and fantastical events he had experienced, it was only fair for him to treat himself with a stress-free, casual day out on the town. He scanned the listings for current and upcoming performances and settled on one he’d never heard of in hopes to be pleasantly surprised by the end of it.

“Perhaps I’ll give Rupan-taran a jingle and see if she wants to accompany me,” he said aloud as he circled the listing, “I’m rather curious about how her research is going; teach me a few things about _l’environnement,_ ” he chuffed, “Oh, and I have a night of dancing with Khadra next week Friday...group meditation on Saturday morning and...book club that evening... _whew_ what a calendar of events. I’m glad I finally finished that book…”

He flipped over to the next page to read the rest of the news. Nothing particularly interesting, which was good. He hadn’t missed much during the one day he was out from work, either. It was almost as if time stood still while he was frolicking through the forest.

“Enough of that,” he said, and flipped over to the main attraction: the crossword puzzle. For the next twenty minutes he sipped his tea and wracked his brain to come up with the appropriate answer choices. From the corner of his eye he glanced over at his two beloved kitties who were lazing on his sofa and smiled, _“Just another ten minutes and I’ll be through,”_ he thought, _“This is an easy one!”_

When he completed his puzzle (without any distractions!) he tended to his animals as he usually did. Then he went outside and tended to his garden of crops and flowers, watering them and weeding them as he usually did. And when that was through, he biked to the grocery store and stocked up on his household’s favourite foods, biked back, and put everything away just as he usually did.

Afterwards, he did his daily stretching and meditation outside on the grass to sort the endless thoughts he had swirling about in his head and reminding himself to stay grounded. To simply _be_ one with nature. To not just _hear_ the chittering birds and the dancing leaves in the trees, but to find his place within it all. It was a slightly overdue message for what he had already experienced, but maybe that was Mother Nature’s way of speaking to him? _Grounding_ him?

Since those fateful days, he would often lie awake in introspection and think what he took away from it all; what lessons he had possibly learned. He had never been one to brood or ponder the existential, but he felt as though he had been given a new lease on life. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the grass seemed to be greener, and (as cloy as it sounds) he was reminded about how much he loved his planet and the living creatures on it. He loved his line of work and he loved making Chalsis a better place than it was yesterday.

Minister Amphidamas laid himself back on the lawn with a satisfied sigh. His arms were folded behind his head and his eyes were pointed at the wispy, blue firmament; watching as the cirrus clouds travelled on and on…

Oh, what a beautiful afternoon it was.


End file.
